


Crash

by lostresidentevilpotter



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Other Characters Are Mentioned, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-04-08 04:41:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 106,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19099942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostresidentevilpotter/pseuds/lostresidentevilpotter
Summary: When the plane goes down, Alicia does the only thing she can do: she starts killing the dead. Or, a retelling of 5x01 and the events that occur after. Alicia/Althea.





	1. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am absolutely taking plenty of liberties with the episode and plot, and I am probably interpreting the characters differently. You decide.
> 
> There are some depictions of violence, as typical for the show, and there are references to canonical deaths of characters from previous seasons, but otherwise, no other warnings apply that I'm aware of.
> 
> It looks like I'm going to be expanding upon this thing that I thought was going to be a one-shot, so stay tuned.

She _knew_ this was a bad idea. She _knew_ it. She tried to tell the others that this was a stupid idea, but she was swiftly outvoted. The last thing Alicia Clark wants to do after the world ends is get in a plane piloted by a journalist, of all people. A _journalist_. Alicia, frankly, is not surprised when the plane loses an engine and they begin to plummet towards the earth. Not surprised in the least, but she pulls her seatbelt tighter and digs her nails into the armrests and squeezes her eyes shut and holds on for dear life. Alarms won’t stop blaring, red lights flashing, as if they don’t know they’re going down.

 

First, Alicia’s boyfriend died. He was a sweet boy, never anything but gentle and funny in his own sort of way. Alicia thinks she loved him, once upon a time, but that time has long passed. She isn’t the person she was when she loved Matt anymore. That feels like a lifetime ago, and she tries not to let her mind wander that far back.

 

Alicia can’t say she was happy about Chris’s death, per se, but she wasn’t exactly upset. She doesn’t dwell on him.

 

Next came Jake. Alicia thinks she loved Jake, too, but in a different way, for different reasons. Or maybe it wasn’t love. Maybe she just wanted to believe it was love. Maybe she needed to feel something other than fear and hopelessness for once. Maybe Jake was only…convenient.

 

Alicia doesn’t think about Ofelia Salazar anymore. She spent enough sleepless nights thinking about her.

 

Her mom is the hardest to accept. Alicia would’ve put her life on Madison being the absolute last human alive on the planet. Maybe life lost all meaning when the dead started to walk, or maybe it only lost its meaning when Madison sacrificed herself so they could live. The one person Alicia could never fathom losing was gone. Just like that. The one person she expected to make it – gone. She’s still numb.

 

Then there’s Nick. No matter what hell Nick put her and their family through, he is – he was her brother. He always had a knack for getting himself into – and out of – tight situations. All it took was one well-placed bullet from a _child_ –

 

Alicia tries not to think about Nick, too, but every time her eyes land on Luciana, his face pops into her mind. Every time her eyes close, his face is there. Many times, at night, she sees him alongside Madison, smiling, surrounded by brightly colored flowers, waiting.

 

It’s worse than the actual nightmares.

 

As the plane goes down, the faces of those Alicia has lost flash through her mind, one after the other, over and over and over. Her eyes open in an attempt to get rid of the faces of the dead. The dead are gone. The plane is going down, and Alicia is soon to be among their ranks.

 

John Dorie mutters a prayer under his breath. A last ditch effort, maybe. Alicia’s almost glad June is up in the cockpit with Al, only because she doesn’t have to watch John and June swap spit and hold hands and pray together or something.

 

“Brace yourself!” Al yells over her shoulder.

 

Alicia squeezes her eyes shut. She’s going to die. She’s going to die, even though she fucking _told_ everyone not to risk flying a plane. Even though she voted with Strand and Luciana _not_ to fly, even if it’d be faster, because the only person capable of figuring out how to fly a plane is a _journalist_. And now they’re going down. What a _fucking_ surprise. Alicia is going to die strapped into a seat beside Morgan, the man desperate to help people who obviously don’t fucking want help, and now she’s paying the price.

 

She silently apologizes to her mother and Nick before her head hits something hard and dazes her. She doesn’t lose consciousness as the plane flips and rolls and rips apart, but only just barely. Eventually, the alarms stop blaring, the plane stops moving, and everything goes silent. Alicia becomes aware of the fact that she’s hanging, that the plane – what’s left of it – is on its side. She groans, wincing at the pain that sears through her head, and fumbles for the buckle. It releases, and Alicia drops to the ground, catching herself on her hands and knees. She looks to her right, and the tail end of the plane isn’t there.

 

She hears it. It’s faint, but it’s definitely there. Moaning. The dead. She blinks until her vision isn’t blurry and forces herself to stand. She touches her fingertips to her eyebrow, unsurprised to see blood when she pulls her hand back. She turns to Morgan, shakes his arm, but he doesn’t stir. He’s strapped in, Alicia thinks deliriously, so if he’s dead instead of just unconscious, at least he won’t be able to get to the others. John’s starting to come to, and Alicia doesn’t get eyes on Luciana before she realizes the dead sound closer. Way too close. And she’s the only person on their feet.

 

She stumbles out of the plane and searches for something nearby that can be used as a weapon. She has eyes on what’s surely just the first wave of the dead, probably less than a yard away from them. She grabs the nearest thing that can be a decent weapon. It’s metal, sharp – frankly, Alicia doesn’t know what it is, but she picks it up, hissing as it cuts into her palms. The dead are almost here. She has no choice. Gritting her teeth, she swings at the first one’s head and feels a sick thrill of satisfaction when she cuts clean through its skull. Blood splatters against her neck, but she hardly takes notice. Exhaling, she swings again. And again. And again. Singlehandedly, she keeps the dead away from the wreckage. She protects everyone inside the plane. By herself.

 

At least until the second wave starts arriving. It reminds Alicia of those video games Nick used to play. She can’t name one to save her life, but the enemy comes at you in waves. The first wave is the easiest, and it gets steadily harder until, well, until you die. Alicia staggers back closer to the plane, breathing heavily, and she scans the oncoming dead. They’re coming from all directions, some on their own, some in packs of four or five or more. They all snarl and snap their jaws and reach for her, and her brain freezes. She doesn’t know what the best strategy is – at least, not instantly. She needs more time –

 

There’s one _right behind her_. She whips around, prepared to strike, but she pulls away at the last second when her eyes land on Morgan’s face. Her heart hammers in her throat, and she swallows hard.

 

“Your hands, Alicia,” Morgan says, prompting Alicia to look down. At first, she assumes it’s the blood of the dead. She’s already slaughtered twenty, thirty? Her eyes set on the deep slashes in her palms. The blood’s hers.

 

“Yeah,” Alicia says. Big fucking deal. The dead are coming. What choice does she have? She mows down another twenty, thirty dead, Morgan by her side, before she stops and truly begins to feel the stinging in her palms. The wind carries the moans of the dead from God knows where, but they’re out of sight for right now. Alicia chucks the hunk of metal aside and goes to the nearest piece of luggage. It doesn’t take long for her to dig up medical supplies, so she guesses the bag belongs to June. Alicia splashes hydrogen peroxide on her wounds and quickly winds bandages around her hands. It isn’t until she turns back to Morgan that she realizes he’s been watching her this whole time.

 

“What?” Alicia snaps.

 

“Luciana,” Morgan says softly. “She’s hurt.”

 

It’s like being punched in the gut. Or maybe like being hit by a truck. For a moment, Alicia can’t breathe. She can’t lose it now. They don’t have time for that.

 

“The others?” she manages to ask.

 

“John’s helping her,” Morgan says. “Trying to help her. June and Al…” he trails off, and Alicia doesn’t wait for him to pick up his line of thought again. She dashes to the cockpit but skids to a stop when she sees the three dead gathered at the window, pressing their faces to the glass in a futile attempt to get at the cockpit’s contents. Alicia ditched her weapon, and one of the dead has already turned to face her, a much easier meal than the two people sealed in a cockpit.

 

Alicia easily finds another makeshift weapon and dispatches the dead at the cockpit without issue. She throws that hunk of metal aside as well, but not too far this time, and crouches in front of the window the dead had been peering into. The cockpit, like the cabin, is on its side, but there’s June, and there’s Althea. They’re both moving. Both alive.

 

Alicia doesn’t know if she’s more angry or relieved. The relief comes first, washes over her, and she almost laughs. The relief doesn’t last long, quickly replaced by anger, and Alicia puts it toward figuring out a way into the cockpit. She won’t be able to get through that window –

 

“Up there!” Al calls, motioning toward what’s now the top of the cockpit. The door. Duh. Alicia hears Morgan kill something not very far behind them, but she doesn’t look back, instead concentrating on how the hell she’s going to get that door open. She gets up there without issue, grabs onto the handle, but the damn thing won’t budge.

 

“Well, help me out!” Alicia shouts, banging her fist against the door. Her muscles strain, and it isn’t until the door finally begins to creak open that she feels the clawing at her calves. The door opens, and Al’s head pops up, still with that ridiculous headset on, hazel eyes searching Alicia’s bloodied face. Alicia glances back and sees a cluster of dead gathered at the cockpit, all trying to grab at her legs and yank her to the ground so they can have a snack. She sends her boot into the face of one, and though it’s sent to the dirt, another quickly takes up its spot.

 

“Don’t just stare!” Alicia blurts. “Do something!”

 

Al ducks back into the cockpit, and for a second, Alicia really believes she’s on her own with this. Morgan’s occupied with the dead trying to enter the cabin, June is below Alicia in the cockpit hanging sideways still, and Alicia is one bad grab away from becoming chow for the dead. She can’t let go of the door lest she go sliding right into their decaying arms. Her muscles are tiring fast, aching for her to let go, and she gives one of the dead grasping at her leg another kick. She hears its jaw snap, but that doesn’t prevent it from unleashing another moan.

 

Al returns with one of John Dorie’s precious revolvers in hand. Retrieved from June, no doubt, and Alicia makes a mental note to thank June later. Or John. Maybe both of them. There’s a click, and Al fires off every single shot then exhales and slumps against the cockpit beside Alicia.

 

“Thanks,” Alicia breathes.

 

“Ditto.”

 

Alicia lets go and slides back to the ground, careful not to land on the bodies of the dead. Al, meanwhile, climbs up and turns back to help June out and return the revolver. Alicia allows herself a moment to catch her breath as Al and June hop down. They’re both bleeding from their heads, although in different spots, Alicia notes. But they’re not concerned with their bleeding. Their eyes are set squarely on Alicia, on the blood dripping from her eyebrow but also on the blood covering the rest of her face. Neck. Hands. If her shirt wasn’t black, it’d probably be completely stained.

 

Al’s eyes drop to Alicia’s bandaged hands. Alicia flinches, nearly jamming her hands into the pockets of her jacket to conceal them. She could say it happened in the crash, just to rub it in Al’s face, but Morgan knows the truth, so why lie?

 

June’s eyes flick between Alicia and Althea before she takes off, running for the cabin to find John, surely, but she’ll be more useful there anyway.

 

“What happened?” Al asks. Her eyes go from Alicia’s hands to her face, back to her hands. Alicia glances at them herself, a little surprised to find she’s bled through the bandages. Al takes careful steps toward Alicia, like she’s a potentially rabid dog or something. Alicia scoffs, rolls her eyes, and forces herself not to step backward as Al advances. “Alicia,” Al says. “C’mon. What happened?”

 

“Got cut,” Alicia answers. “It’s not too bad.”

 

“Bullshit,” Al replies. “The bandages are soaked.”

 

“You’re bleeding, too,” Alicia snaps. “It looks bad.”

 

“It’s not.”

 

“Could you contact Strand?” Alicia asks.

 

“Don’t change the subject.” Al pauses. “No.”

 

“So we’re fucked.” Alicia smiles in disbelief. “See, I told you,” she shoves Al by the shoulders even though it sends stabbing pains through her palms, “I _told_ you trying to fly to Logan was a bad idea.” Alicia shoves Al again for good measure and turns her back to her, shaking her head. “You couldn’t just vote with me, could you?” Alicia mutters. “You’re too afraid of what the others might think if you sided with me.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Al says evenly. She straightens out her jacket and pushes her hair out of her eyes. She keeps her distance.

 

“Liar,” Alicia spits. She looks down at her hands to find the bandages are basically useless, too soaked to stop the flow of blood. Beads roll from her palms off the ends of her fingertips, dropping to the dirt beside her boots. Alicia spins back around, teeth bared, and walks at Al until there’s nearly no space between them. Alicia jabs her bloody finger into the center of Al’s chest and snarls, “You told me you weren’t sure you could fly the damn thing. You told me you weren’t sure it was a good idea, but when it came time to vote, you sided with Morgan.” Alicia takes a step back, grinning. She looks up at the sky and shouts, “And look here! The plane crashed! We’re in the middle of fucking nowhere with no way out! What a great idea!”

 

“The engine failed,” Al says quietly. “What was I supposed to do?”

 

Alicia’s smile falls. “You were supposed to vote to drive to Logan’s position, like I did. Now Luciana’s hurt, and we’re stranded, and Logan is probably fucked now, too.”

 

“Alicia –”

 

“Don’t!” Alicia hisses, yanking her arm free of Al’s sudden hold. She cradles her arm against her chest. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

 

“Alicia –”

 

“You could’ve _died_ ,” Alicia whispers. She smacks her hand against Al’s chest and doesn’t protest when Al holds onto her wrist, keeps her hand there. There’s blood smeared on her jacket now, and Al loves that damn jacket, but Alicia’s hand doesn’t move. “You could’ve died, and then what?” Alicia says. She blinks back the oncoming wetness in her eyes. There’s no point in crying. Tears don’t change anything. Alicia swallows hard and says, “And then you’d just be another name for me to write in my book of lost loved ones, all because you let everyone convince you that you could fly and land a plane.”

 

“We landed,” Al says weakly.

 

“We crashed,” Alicia corrects.

 

“Crash landed.”

 

Alicia pulls her hand back. “And if you died –”

 

“But I didn’t.”

 

“If you died, I could tell everyone the truth and accept their pity or I could hide my feelings for the sake of – of what? What are we hiding for? June and John are –”

 

“June and John aren’t in charge,” Al cuts in. “You are.”

 

“How does that change _anything_?” Alicia asks in exasperation. They’re just rehashing an old argument again. “The world is _over_. Who cares?”

 

“Look, just, I have my reasons for not wanting my business out in the open for everyone to dissect and analyze,” Al says. She inhales, eyes flicking back down to Alicia’s hands, and she says, “You should really bandage that again.”

 

“I don’t care.” Alicia bites back a command of _go get your head looked at_ , because she knows Al isn’t going to do anything about it. Alicia glances at the bloody handprint she left on the center of Al’s chest, staining her jacket, and Alicia hopes someone dares to ask Al about it later. Alicia walks away and returns to the cabin. She passes by Morgan, taking a break from fending off the dead, to find June and John surrounding Luciana, blocking Alicia’s view. John looks up first, nudging his hat farther up his head, and Alicia tries not to let the grim look on his face bother her.

 

“What’s going on?” she asks.

 

“She’s injured,” June informs.

 

“I know that,” Alicia says. “What –” She stops speaking once she’s close enough to see it for herself. There’s a pole protruding from Luciana’s shoulder, and she does her best to hide the horror threatening to cross her face for Luciana’s sake. “What can I do?” Alicia asks.

 

“Hold her hand,” June suggests. “We have to cut her free and get her somewhere safe so I can take care of the wound.”

 

“The hacksaws,” John says suddenly. “I’ll go find one.”

 

Alicia holds Luciana’s hand, and June applies pressure to the wound while they wait for John to come back. The dead are becoming fewer and far between, but the crash was so loud, they’re probably on their way in from miles away. Alicia squeezes Luciana’s hand in both of hers and tries to tell her she’ll be alright, but she isn’t so sure herself.

 

John comes back with a hacksaw and with Al in tow. Alicia grits her teeth and keeps her eyes on Luciana’s face, shifting to the side to make room for John.

 

“Al, get in here,” June orders, as if that isn’t the last thing Alicia wants. “Hold it steady. Don’t let it move.”

 

Al fits between June and Alicia, reaching over Luciana to grasp onto the pole and hold it while John begins sawing away at it. Alicia breathes shallowly, refusing to look at Al any more than she has to, though she can see her face in her peripheral vision. Alicia closes her eyes, unable to watch Luciana as she screams and even less able to look at Al or at the distraught John as he continues to saw.

 

“We need to hurry it up!” Morgan calls into the cabin. “There are more coming! I can’t hold them off alone!”

 

“Alicia,” June says.

 

“She can’t,” Al jumps in. “Her hands –”

 

“It’s just a little blood,” Alicia dismisses. “Luci, I’m sorry,” she says. She touches her fingertips to Luciana’s knee and stands, careful not to brush against Al on her way out. She knows Luciana understands. Or she will understand, later.

 

A horde of dead are just over the hill facing the ripped open back of the cabin. Alicia scans her surroundings again and –

 

“Morgan! I have an idea.”

 

Alicia grabs a heavy enough rock and uses it to set up the trip wires, pounding spike after spike into the ground in spite of her own exhaustion. It’ll at least buy them some time while June and John free Luciana. Where they go from there, of course, no one has bothered to mention, but Morgan will figure something out. At least, he better. Alicia just finishes setting up when the first dead reach them. They trip over the wire, as intended, and fall to the ground over one another. Morgan easily takes them out, and Alicia searches for another adequate weapon. Hopefully one that won’t slice her hands to shreds.

 

“She’s free,” Al says, emerging from the cabin. She must be talking to Morgan, because Alicia sure as hell isn’t paying attention to her. “We’ve got to move.”

 

“And how are we going to move Luci?” Alicia snaps. Morgan eyes her warily then sends his stick into the eye socket of another walking corpse.

 

“John and June are fashioning her a gurney,” Al says calmly. She glances over at Morgan than walks briskly up to Alicia. Alicia stiffens, but Al yanks something off her belt and holds it out to Alicia. “Found this.”

 

It’s Alicia’s gun barrel, sharpened to a point at the end. Alicia snatches it out of Al’s hand and clutches it to her chest. Alicia’s eyes lock with Al’s, and that’s all the thanks Al is getting. Alicia can’t help but notice the compact camera dangling at Al’s side. So she found the damn thing in the wreckage. Figures.

 

“How are we getting out of here?” Alicia demands.

 

“We’re going to walk, obviously,” Al calls from behind her.

 

Alicia ignores her. “Morgan.”

 

Morgan offers a small smile. “We’re going to walk,” he says. “We’ll find something along the way. A car to hotwire. We’ll find a way. We always do.”

 

That’s the problem. Just because they’ve always found a way _before_ doesn’t mean they’re going to find a way _now_. Just because the dead didn’t rip them all limb from limb in the past doesn’t mean they won’t do it _now_.

 

John and June step out of the cabin carrying Luciana on the makeshift gurney, and Morgan rushes over to keep applying pressure to the wound.

 

“I’ve got the lead,” Alicia announces. “Althea, take up the rear.”

 

Al raises her eyebrows, and Alicia clearly reads _I’m Althea now, huh?_ off her face but doesn’t outwardly react. Wouldn’t want to give anything away, Alicia thinks bitterly. She does as she said and leads the group in the most logical direction – that being, the direction with the least amount of dead. No one speaks until they step onto a road, littered with a few vehicles, including a pickup.

 

“Looks like it’s our lucky day,” John quips, but no one smiles. Alicia rushes forward to check that there’s no dead in the truck – there isn’t – then helps John and June heft Luciana into the truck bed. John and June climb up after, Morgan following suit before Alicia can protest.

 

“Alicia,” June calls. Alicia stops beside the passenger’s side door and turns back. June leans over the side, holding a roll of bandages, and Alicia takes the roll and nods. She hauls herself up into the passenger’s seat, and Al’s already at work hotwiring the truck. Alicia sets the gun barrel down by her feet and unravels the blood soaked bandages on her hands, tossing them out the window before rewrapping both her hands. Al doesn’t look at her, and Alicia pretends not to notice, staring out the windshield.

 

“Check the glovebox for a map,” Al says after a few minutes spent in near silence. Alicia complies as the engine roars to life. Al grins to herself, pushing her hand into her hair. She looks over at Alicia as she rummages through the glovebox and pulls out a map.

 

“Here,” Alicia says, dropping the map into Al’s lap. Al opens the map and locates their current position.

 

“The truck stop Logan’s people are held up at isn’t far,” Al informs. “We’ll be able to help Logan and treat Luciana. Kill two birds with one stone.” She passes the map back to Alicia. “Can you tell that to Morgan?”

 

Alicia leans out the open window and repeats what Al said to Morgan. He gives the go ahead, and they take off down the road. Al drives more carefully than usual, and she also glances over at Alicia every twenty seconds or so. Even if Alicia stares out the side window, she still notices.

 

“Stop staring at me,” Alicia finally says.

 

“I’m not staring at you. I’m driving. That requires me to look around.”

 

“You’re staring at me and you know it.”

 

Al smirks. “So what if I am?”

 

“You might want to be careful. Morgan might see you through the window and condemn us for daring to be happy,” Alicia mutters.

 

Al presses her lips together but doesn’t reply. The rest of the ride to the truck stop is in silence, apart from the few pained noises from Luciana when they hit particularly nasty bumps in the road.

 

Alicia’s eyebrows pull together as they pull up on the truck stop. She turns to look back out the window at Morgan, but she can’t see him. Maybe he’s looking at the same thing they are: the empty truck stop.

 

“This is it, right?” Alicia asks.

 

“It’s supposed to be,” Al replies.

 

“There’s no one here.”

 

“We don’t know that yet.”

 

Alicia rolls her eyes. Her gut tells her no one’s here. She trusts it. Al parks the truck, and they get Luciana inside once Alicia ensures there’s nothing waiting for them. June, John, and Morgan can handle Luciana. Alicia delves deeper into the truck stop, gun barrel in hand, searching for any sign of life. She finds a generator and fires it up, squinting against the sudden onslaught of artificial light. Once she’s convinced there’s nothing to find, she starts heading back.

 

She rounds a corner and gasps, holding on tighter to the barrel but thankfully not using it. Al startles and holds her hands out to steady Alicia, but Alicia knocks her hands away.

 

“Jesus!” Alicia exclaims. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Al says. “And…I’m sorry for not voting with you. You’re right. We shouldn’t have tried to fly.”

 

Alicia relaxes and leans against the wall. The exhaustion has set into her bones, and she wants nothing more than to be in her bed at the denim factory, God knows how many miles away from their current location. She wants to be at movie night, Strand sitting to her left, criticizing the movie under his breath but enjoying it all the same; Al sits on her right, letting her knee rest against Alicia’s, but that’s all. No hand holding. Nothing more than touching their knees together like they aren’t even aware it’s happening. Alicia always sneaks glances at Al, but Al never looks away from the screen. Not until the credits roll.

 

“There’s no one here,” Alicia says. “We should go see if June needs more help with Luciana.”

 

“Wait,” Al says, holding her arms out to block Alicia’s exit. “Hold on.”

 

“Why?” Alicia sighs.

 

“You are covered in blood,” Al says. “You should wash up. Let June look at your hands and that cut on your eyebrow when you’re done.”

 

“Fuck off. Let June look at your face.”

 

“My face stopped bleeding a long time ago.”

 

“So did my hands.”

 

“You bled a lot.”

 

Alicia glares, unable to think of something clever to say back. Maybe her exhaustion is partly due to her blood loss. Is that a thing? Honestly, she doesn’t think she’s lost that much blood. Most of the blood she’s wearing isn’t hers. She has to admit, being covered in the blood of a hundred different dead creatures isn’t exactly appealing.

 

“Can you just let me show some concern for you?” Al asks.

 

“You’re only doing it because no one else is around to hear it,” Alicia mutters. “Look, you don’t need to worry about me –”

 

“Of course I do.”

 

“Not if you’re going to keep hiding it,” Alicia retorts. “Not if you only care when we’re alone.”

 

Al chews on her lower lip. “Alicia, I –”

 

“Save it,” Alicia interrupts. “There’s shit to do. We have to contact Strand and find Logan and –”

 

“Can you just take a moment to stop worrying about the others and take care of yourself?” Al questions. “Clean up. Make sure none of those open wounds get infected. Then we can contact Strand and figure out where the hell Logan and his people are.”

 

Alicia nods curtly and sets off to do just that. Quickly. So she can try to radio Strand and determine why Logan isn’t at this truck stop when he said his people were trapped. Alicia washes the blood off her face, neck, and hands, consults with June about her wounds, and changes into less bloodied clothes before she joins John and Morgan at the radio.

 

“Strand?” Alicia questions.

 

“He’s aware of the situation,” Morgan assures her.

 

“And Logan?”

 

“Not answering,” Morgan admits. “Maybe something happened. It could be awhile before he responds. You should get some rest. You look beat.”

 

Alicia can’t even argue with him. She heads into the back of the truck stop and finds a quiet corner to hole up in, somewhere she can’t hear Luciana’s moans of pain or the John-and-June-lovefest or Morgan attempting to contact Logan every five minutes.

 

Al finds her. Of course she does. Al sets out to look for her once she’s sure the others doesn’t need her at the moment. With Luciana patched up and Logan not responding, she figures they won’t need her for a while. Finding Alicia doesn’t take long, and though Alicia’s dozing off, she jolts awake at the sound of boots on the concrete.

 

“Hey,” Al says.

 

Alicia swallows. “What?”

 

“What? I’m not allowed to see you?” Al replies, cracking a short-lived smile. “You don’t want to see me.”

 

“Not particularly.”

 

Al sighs. “So you’re just going to be mad forever? Because the group outvoted you, and I voted against you, and we landed –”

 

“Crashed.”

 

“– We crash landed in the middle of nowhere, and now Logan is MIA? You’re going to be mad forever?”

 

Alicia grunts. “No.”

 

Al takes a seat beside Alicia against the wall and lets her knee rest against Alicia’s. Alicia doesn’t look at her. Her hands ball into fists in her lap, even though it hurts, and she grits her teeth.

 

“Well, what’s it gonna take?” Al asks. “You want me to go tell the group about us? You want me to go announce to them that we’re in an ill-defined relationship of sorts and have been since, uh –”

 

“Since Nick died,” Alicia supplies.

 

“Yeah. Is that what it’s going to take? Because I’ll go do it, consequences be damned.”

 

“There are no consequences,” Alicia replies. “You’re just afraid of what they’ll think.”

 

“That isn’t –”

 

“I’m not having this argument _again_.”

 

“Alright. If I have to tell them so you won’t be mad, then –”

 

“Stop,” Alicia says. “Please. Just shut up.”

 

“Will you at least look at me?”

 

In spite of herself, Alicia turns her head to face Al. Alicia flinches but doesn’t look away. Alicia exhales and finds herself more tired than angry. She lets her head drop onto Al’s shoulder and closes her eyes. She reaches over, and Al takes her wrist, but Alicia shakes her hand off and captures it in her own despite the pain.

 

“Alicia –”

 

“Just hold my hand,” Alicia mumbles. Al doesn’t argue. Al isn’t sure of how much time passes as she sits on the hard concrete with Alicia’s head on her shoulder, hand clasped in hers. She lets Alicia sleep, even as footsteps approach their corner. June comes into view and stops walking, probably at how jarring it is to see Al and Alicia side by side, _touching_.

 

“She fell asleep,” Al explains.

 

“I was just…looking for the bathroom,” June says. “Um. Sorry.”

 

Al smiles and says, “The bathroom’s the other way.”

 

“Right.”

 

June doesn’t walk away immediately, so Al asks, “Any news on Logan?”

 

June hesitates. “Nothing that can’t wait until Alicia wakes up.”

 

Al nods as best she can with Alicia’s head on her. A smile flickers on June’s face before she turns and walks off. Before she turns the corner, though, she looks back and says, “You know, you guys would be pretty cute together.”

 

“Shut up!”

 

“Right. Sorry,” June says. She throws Al a wink and disappears, leaving Al to shake her head and continue to gingerly hold Alicia’s hand in hers. She wishes she hadn’t left her camera in the other room. She’d like to have this on film.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I just kind of threw this together really quickly to avoid doing homework. Please feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments, and I'll do my best to respond to you. Thanks for reading!


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently I’m continuing this! I don’t know how far this will go or what I’m going to do with this, so we’re on this ride together. I suppose I’m rewriting FTWD season 5. Also I'd like to shout out to commanderraccoon who gave me the idea to keep going with this! Thank you!

Alicia shows no signs of waking up, and Al’s ass went numb at least a half hour ago. Al tries to hold Alicia steady as she slips from beneath Alicia’s head. Al can’t leave Alicia here, sleeping against a wall; she doesn’t even consider it. She crouches down and scoops Alicia into her arms with a grunt. Al’s muscles strain, but she’s fairly certain she won’t drop Alicia. And if she does, it’ll make a funny story sometime. Not today or tomorrow, but maybe in five years from now.

 

Al won’t drop her. She’s good. She’s got this. Each step she takes jostles Alicia around, so Al is certain Alicia’s about to wake up, but her eyes remain shut. Al carries Alicia back to the group, to the booths against the windows. Everyone’s eyes follow her, but no one speaks. There’s something off about the atmosphere in the room. Al lowers Alicia carefully onto the table. If Alicia could sleep sitting upright on a concrete floor, she damn well should be able to sleep on a wood table. Alicia mumbles something incoherent in her sleep but doesn’t wake up.

 

Al steps back from the booth quickly then pivots to face the rest of the group. Luciana’s awake in spite of her injury. They’re all staring at Al like they’re about to tell her that her dog died.

 

“Why are you all staring at me like that?” Al questions. “Who died?”

 

“No one,” June says quickly. June and John exchange a glance, and Al’s eyebrows raise.

 

“Well?” Al says. “Don’t tell me all at once.”

 

“We should wake Alicia,” Morgan says.

 

“No,” Al says, shaking her head. “Let her rest. She needs it. Now tell me what’s going on.”

 

“June should have a look at your head,” Morgan says.

 

“My head is fine,” Al assures him. She taps her fingers against the wound and holds her hand out. “See? No blood.”

 

“You could have a concussion,” Morgan argues.

 

“A concussion is the least of our problems,” Al replies. She looks to Luciana and quickly adds, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

 

“I know,” Luciana says. Her eyes go to Morgan. “Just tell her.”

 

Morgan rubs at his jaw and sighs. “Logan…Logan tricked us.”

 

“What do you mean?” Al demands.

 

“He’s at the denim factory,” Luciana says. “He lured all of us away so he could reclaim it.”

 

Al’s lips part as the gears turn in her brain. “So you’re saying we – you’re saying _I_ flew and _crashed_ a plane for no reason at all? You’re saying _you_ got a pole through your shoulder for _nothing_?”

 

Luciana flinches. “Your voice,” Luciana says. “Keep your voice down, or you’ll wake Alicia.”

 

“You know what? We should wake Alicia,” Al spits. Before she can go to shake Alicia awake, John intercepts her, holding her by the bicep.

 

“You were right the first time, Al,” John says quietly. “Let her rest.”

 

“We’re just going to sit here?” Al questions. She pulls her arm free and straightens out her jacket. John’s eyes drop to her chest, and Al nearly calls him out on it until she realizes what he’s staring at: the now dry bloody handprint Alicia so graciously smacked onto her jacket.

 

“We’ll come up with a plan,” Morgan says. “But we all need to recover. Regroup. Do you know how much gas was in the truck?”

 

Al shakes her head. “Less than a half a tank by the time we got here.”

 

“That won’t get us back,” Morgan says. “Strand’s going to have to pick us up.”

 

“We’re too far,” Al argues. “Then what? We give up the factory? After everything?”

 

“I don’t know,” Morgan admits.

 

“Alicia will know,” Al insists. “She needs to –”

 

“She needs to sleep,” Morgan finishes. “Her hands need a chance to heal, and we’re safe here.”

 

“This is a mistake,” Al says. She looks from Morgan to June to John to Luciana and realizes no one’s with her. Not even Luciana. “Fine,” Al says. She takes a seat in the booth next to the one Alicia’s sleeping in, resting back against the wall, stretching her legs out.

 

“I’m going to talk to Strand again,” Morgan says. “I’ll be in the other room if you need me.”

 

“I’ll go with you,” John offers.

 

As soon as the two men disappear, June swipes up the first aid kit and approaches Al’s booth. Despite Al’s protests, June shoves her legs off the booth and slides in beside her. She opens the kit and turns her eyes to the wound in Al’s forehead.

 

“It’s fine,” Al says. She pushes June’s hand away. “It doesn’t need –”

 

“Just let me clean it,” June says.

 

Al sighs and gives in. June wipes away the dried blood with an antiseptic wipe, and Al forces herself not to react to any stab of pain she may or may not feel. Her eyes flick over to her left, toward where Alicia’s still asleep. Her lips are moving, but Al can’t hear whatever she might be saying.

 

“What’s going on with that?” June finally asks. She motions toward Al’s jacket, toward the handprint.

 

Al stutters for a moment before managing to say, “Alicia slapped me.”

 

June hums and drops another bloodied wipe to the table. “In the chest?”

 

“She must’ve been pretty angry,” Al says weakly.

 

“One minute she’s slapping you, the next she’s falling asleep on you,” June says, just low enough that Luciana can’t hear.

 

“What’s your point?” Al asks. She cracks a smile and adds, “I can’t pretend like I understand the inner workings of Alicia Clark’s brain.”

 

“If anyone understands her, it’s you,” June replies. “Some days, I think you’re the only person left that she actually likes.”

 

“I don’t think she likes me,” Al says. “She ruined my favorite jacket with her blood.”

 

“Maybe it’ll wash out,” June jokes. “If you scrub hard enough.”

 

“You know blood doesn’t come out of shit,” Al mutters. “I’d be better off finding a new jacket.”

 

“It could be worse,” June says.

 

“How?”

 

“She could’ve smacked you in the face instead. That would’ve been _much_ more humiliating.”

 

June finishes patching up Al’s head and declares it to be fine. Al bites back an _I told you so_ and settles for _thank you_ instead.

 

“I hope you don’t mind,” June says as she packs up the first aid kit, “but I’m gonna go find John.”

 

“Go find him,” Al says. “I’ll hang out with Sleeping Beauty and Luci. Make sure they don’t get into any trouble, you know?”

 

June’s smile is gentle, and she tips her head forward in a nod. “Holler if you need anything. And Luciana, you should try to get some rest, too. You’re going to need it.”

 

Al watches June head to the back, undoubtedly seeking a private moment with John – not that Al blames her. Luciana tries to make herself comfortable on her table, cradling her shoulder the best she can as she lowers herself down. Luciana falls asleep quickly, and Al turns her gaze to Alicia, staring unabashedly. Alicia’s lips still move, probably whispering some nonsense until –

 

“Nick.”

 

Al scrambles out of the booth. She knows what comes next. She shifts around into Alicia’s booth, quickly, seizing her by the arms.

 

“Alicia, hey, it’s alright,” Al says, gently shaking Alicia. “C’mon. Wake up.”

 

The last thing Al needs is Alicia to start screaming. Everyone will come running, and shit will get awkward real fast.

 

“ _Alicia_. Wake up, baby.”

 

Alicia’s eyes pop open, and she gasps, immediately grabbing Al by the biceps. Confusion burns in Alicia’s eyes until she remembers where she’s at and who she’s staring up at.

 

“What happened?” Alicia mumbles.

 

“You were dreaming,” Al answers. She releases her hold on Alicia and drops down onto the red leather seat, exhaling heavily. She brushes her hair out of her eyes as Alicia rolls onto her side so she can face Al.

 

“Look at me,” Alicia requests. Al meets her gaze, surprised to see the tears welling in Alicia’s eyes. Al reaches over and catches the first tear with her thumb before it gets far and manages a small smile.

 

“It’s okay,” Al promises. “You’re good.” She hesitates. “You want to talk about it?”

 

“No.”

 

She never does. Al tries anyway. Al lets her hand rest on the table near Alicia’s face, close but not touching her. Alicia covers the back of Al’s hand with her bandaged palm, and Al can’t help but to stare at their hands.

 

“What’s wrong?” Alicia whispers.

 

“Hmm? Nothing. You should get some more rest.”

 

“No,” Alicia says. “Something’s wrong. It’s all over your face. You’re a terrible liar, you know that, right? You always do this one stupid smile.”

 

“I do not.”

 

“See?” Alicia says. “You just did it.”

 

Another tear slips free, and Al presses her lips together. “You’re sure you don’t want to –?”

 

“I don’t want to talk,” Alicia insists. She wipes the tears away herself. “About _that_ ,” Alicia clarifies. “I _do_ want to talk about whatever’s bothering you.”

 

“Your nightmares bother me.”

 

“I’ll smack more blood on your beloved jacket if you don’t drop this,” Alicia warns.

 

“Alicia, be serious.”

 

“You’re being _too_ serious,” Alicia retorts. “So what’s wrong? Or do I have to wake Luciana?”

 

“Don’t wake her,” Al says. She taps her fingers against the table and chews on her lower lip as she figures out the best way to break the news. “Logan tricked us,” she blurts. “He sent us here to get us away from the denim factory so he could take it back.”

 

Alicia bolts upright. Al lowers her head, staring down at her lap. “He did _what_?” Alicia exclaims. “We’re going. I’ll kill the motherfucker myself.”

 

“We don’t have enough gas to make it to the factory,” Al says. “Morgan’s working with Strand to figure out the best course of action. For now, we need to rest here –”

 

“That’s bullshit!” Alicia snarls. “I’ll –”

 

Al lifts her head and grasps onto Alicia’s wrist, stopping her from sliding off the table and somehow immediately dissolving all her anger.

 

“I crashed that plane for nothing,” Al whispers. “I could’ve killed us all, and it would’ve been for _nothing_.”

 

“Al –”

 

“Don’t,” Al cuts in. “Just don’t.”

 

She smiles and shakes her head, releasing Alicia’s wrist just in case any of the tears building in her own eyes spill over. Thankfully, none have so far.

 

“It wasn’t for nothing,” Alicia says. She reaches over, cups the side of Al’s neck with her bandaged hand, strokes Al’s jaw with the thumb the best she kind with her hand wrapped. “Even if Logan betrayed us, we didn’t do this for nothing.”

 

“Easy for you to say,” Al mutters. “You didn’t crash a plane.”

 

“I also didn’t fly one,” Alicia points out. She manages a smile when their eyes lock. “I’m sorry for being a jackass earlier,” Alicia says. “And for getting blood on your jacket.”

 

“I deserved that.”

 

“No,” Alicia muses, “I should’ve smeared it on your face instead.”

 

Al’s eyes roll, but her lips twist into a smile. She leans into Alicia’s touch, unable to help herself. Alicia lifts her hand, gently combs her fingers through Al’s hair, bringing her fingertips back around Al’s ear. At the sound of footsteps, Alicia reluctantly pulls her hand back to her lap and studies the bandages as if there’s something interesting to see. Morgan appears in the doorway, his eyes immediately going to Alicia.

 

“Strand wants to speak with you,” Morgan tells her.

 

Alicia doesn’t hesitate, hopping off the table and following Morgan to the radio. Al goes to retrieve her camera and watches the last bit of footage she recorded. At first, she doesn’t remember why her own face is the last thing recorded on the current tape. She’s wearing the pilot’s headset, so she was definitely in the plane. The memory comes back, but it’s hazy, like she’s trying to remember a dream. June had picked up the camera and switched it on while Al was preparing for takeoff.

 

“You ready?” June’s voice asks.

 

Al looks up, grinning, and answers, “No. Not at all.”

 

“At least fake some confidence for the camera,” June says.

 

“I’m a journalist, and I’m about to fly a plane,” Al says. “There’s nothing to be confident about.”

 

June continues to film Al as she flips through a manual, searching for something Al can’t recall to save her life now. “You can do this,” June says. She reaches over to pat Al on the shoulder.

 

“I better be able to,” Al replies. She puts the manual aside and looks straight into the camera. “Otherwise all our deaths are on me.”

 

Al and June laugh together, the camera jostling though still managing to keep Al’s face in the frame. Al recognizes the doubt in her own face. Why didn’t she go with her gut? Why did she try to fly that stupid plane? Now they’re at a truck stop, miles from their home, and it’s not even really their home anymore.

 

June’s next words bring Al’s eyes back down to the camera. “Hey, Alicia!” June calls. The camera focuses on the open cockpit door past Al on Alicia, who looks like she’d rather be anywhere else. “Wish Al luck!”

 

Alicia’s eyes go to the camera then to Al. “Good luck,” she says, then she rushes off. Al rewinds the tape, watches it again. The same thing happens, of course, but Al has no memory to match it. She doesn’t know whether to attribute it to hitting her head against whatever caused it to bleed earlier or if it’s due to the immense stress of the day.

 

“Okay, stop filming me,” Al hears herself say, and she refocuses on the little screen. “I need to concentrate.”

 

“What’re you doing?” June asks, and Al nearly jumps out of her skin, switching the camera off and setting it on the table.

 

“Jesus,” Al says, “you scared me.”

 

June smiles. “Sorry. May I?” She motions to the other side of the booth, and Al nods. “You told her about Logan,” June says.

 

“She needed to know.”

 

“Yes. But now she’s flipping out and wants to take action now.”

 

“Don’t we all?” Al questions.

 

“Yes,” June sighs, “but that’s not a realistic option for us right now. Luciana is seriously hurt, and –”

 

“Look, I know,” Al cuts in. “I don’t need a lecture.”

 

June stares at her. Al finds herself unable to meet her gaze. “What were you watching?” June finally asks.

 

“The last thing I recorded. Well, really, you recorded it.”

 

“Oh, before we took off.”

 

“Yeah,” Al says. Her eyebrows pull together. “I don’t remember much of it. Is that normal?”

 

June rubs at the back of her neck. “Well, memory loss isn’t typically _normal_ , but it was an incredibly stressful day, and you did hit your head.”

 

“That’s what I figured.” Al pauses. “You know, I didn’t have a chance to get any footage of the wreckage.”

 

“Al,” June warns, “you aren’t really considering –”

 

“I have to go back.”

 

“Now you’re being ridiculous,” June says. “It’s probably swarming with the dead.”

 

“They followed us out to the road,” Al points out. “It’s unlikely they went all the way back to the plane because there was nothing to draw them back with us gone.”

 

“It’s an insane idea,” June says. “No one will approve of it. Definitely not Morgan or Alicia.”

 

“I don’t need their approval,” Al dismisses.

 

“Al,” June says. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

 

Al grins. “Who said anything about doing something stupid?” She stands from the booth and stretches upward, groaning as her joints pop. “I’m gonna have a look around,” Al informs. “See if there’s anything we can use for beds, since it’s looking like we’re gonna be here all damn night.”

 

June peers through the blinds and frowns. “The dead are starting to gather outside,” she says. “Before you go exploring, do you mind?”

 

“I’m on it,” Al says.

 

“You can’t go alone,” Alicia says, materializing from the other room. She holds the gun barrel at her side and nods toward the door. “Lead the way.”

 

Al scans their surroundings through the glass and determines most of the dead are closer to the gate than the truck stop, so she unlocks the door and yanks it open. She holds her arm out and says, “After you.”

 

Alicia doesn’t hesitate. Al’s just pulling the door shut behind them as Alicia’s swinging at the first dead thing that takes notice of them. The sharpened point of the barrel rips through the dead’s face, and its body plummets to the pavement. Al thinks better of calling after Alicia to tell her to be mindful of her hands and turns her focus on making sure Alicia doesn’t have to kill everything herself.

 

Killing the dead doesn’t take long. Hauling their bodies outside of the gate takes way longer. They start off each hauling bodies on their own, but once the arm rips off of one of Al’s bodies, thanks to her attempt to drag it by the arms, Al gives up.

 

“We’ll go faster if we carry them together,” Al says. It’s the first thing either of them have said since they stepped outside. Alicia glances over and sees Al holding the dismembered arm, and Al holds the arm up and makes it wave.

 

“You’re so gross,” Alicia says, fending off a laugh. “Fine. But I get the legs.”

 

The rest of the corpses are carried past the gates through teamwork. Al lifts them under the arms, Alicia holds their legs, and together, they build a decent sized pile of dead bodies.

 

“Was that the last one?” Al asks. She wipes the sweat from her brow with the sleeve of her jacket and looks over at Alicia.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“We should burn them.”

 

“I don’t have a match,” Alicia says flatly. “And we don’t have a way to control that fire.”

 

Al makes a face. “Well, soon these things are going to stink worse than they do now.”

 

Alicia shrugs. “Hopefully we’ll be out of here before that’s a problem.”

 

Alicia starts to head back to the truck stop, but Al’s faster, snagging her by the sleeve of her jacket. Alicia whips back around, but before she has the opportunity to speak, Al turns Alicia’s hand so her palm faces up. They both stare down at the bandage, which has bled through once more.

 

“You need to take it easy,” Al says.

 

Alicia wriggles her arm free of Al’s grasp. “You let me worry about that,” Alicia says.

 

The door to the truck stop opens, and June pokes her head out to shout, “Guys, come on! The sun’s going to set soon!”

 

Alicia walks briskly to meet June, but Al hangs back, taking the time to fully study their surroundings. The entrances and exits. The vehicles. Weak points. June gives her a funny look by the time she gets back inside, but Al sends her what she thinks is her best dazzling, unsuspicious smile ever, and June doesn’t ask questions.

 

“So about that place to sleep,” Al says.

 

“John found some cots stored in the back,” June informs. “He’s bringing them out here so we can keep an eye on Luciana.”

 

Al motions June to follow her off to the side then murmurs, “Alicia’s hands are bleeding again. Can you –?”

 

“I’ll go talk to her,” June agrees. “You stay out of trouble in the meantime.”

 

“What kind of trouble am I gonna get into here?” Al asks. June merely shoots her a stern look, but Al shrugs it off and goes to help John drag the cots out from the back and arrange them in a line near Luciana. Al claims one of the middle cots and finally removes her bloodstained jacket. The setting sun has brought with it torrential rain that’s going to make it impossible for Al to fall asleep. While everyone else is still scattered about the truck stop, Al wraps her camera in her jacket and tucks it beneath her cot. She pulls her boots off and stashes those beneath the cot as well. She pops the top two buttons of her gray button down so, on the off chance she gets any sleep, she won’t feel like she’s suffocating then sprawls out on the cot as everyone else joins her.

 

Al’s slightly too tall to comfortably fit on the cot without either her head or feet hanging off the end, so she can only imagine how John and Morgan are going to sleep. Then June and John push their cots closer together, and Al figures John will be just fine even if his feet don’t fit perfectly on the cot.

 

Alicia takes the cot to Al’s right and lies on her back, staring up at the ceiling and nowhere else. Her hands have been bandaged once again, thanks to June, and surely Alicia figured out that Al put June up to it. To Al’s left, John and June murmur to one another, and Al knows how much Alicia hates seeing them do…well, anything. They hold hands and Alicia rolls her eyes in an overly exaggerated manner. They kiss and Alicia mimes gagging. Now that John and June have pushed their cots together, Alicia’s eyes refuse to leave the ceiling.

 

Or maybe that has more to do with Al meddling in her business, but Alicia very much could have taken the cot on the end, which would’ve put Morgan between them.

 

The rain pounds against the roof, and it echoes throughout the truck stop and throughout Al’s brain. It’s giving her a headache. Honestly, the headache’s probably from barely eating anything since before they crash landed, but surviving a crash landing and seeing Luciana get impaled and accidentally ripping the arm off of the dead is more than enough to suppress an appetite for a while.

 

“Who wants first watch?” Morgan asks.

 

“I’ll take it,” June pipes up. She sits upright on her cot, but she holds John’s hand and says something about him getting some sleep. He doesn’t argue, placing his hat over his face with his free hand, and Al can’t help but glance at Alicia. There’s not a ton of space between them. Al could reach over and touch her fingertips to the side of Alicia’s cot if she wanted to.

 

She wants to. She wants to get up and grab the side of Alicia’s cot and drag it closer the way John and June shoved their cots right up against each other’s. Al stays on her cot and mimics Alicia; she stares up at the ceiling and listens to the obnoxious rain.

 

“We’ll come down the line,” Morgan says. “So Al, you’re up after June. John, you’ll end the rotation.”

 

They all agree, and one by one, they start to drop off, until Al and June are the last two people awake.

 

“You should really sleep, Al,” June says quietly.

 

“Can’t,” Al replies. “I crashed a plane today. I’m still feeling that leftover excitement.” Al pauses. “If you want to sleep, I’ll be up for a while.”

 

“No, I couldn’t –”

 

“Come on,” Al says, turning her head toward June and flashing her another wide smile. “It’s stupid for both of us to be up when I know I won’t get any rest. And I know you’re dying to get closer to John.”

 

“Al!” June hisses, and Al holds off a laugh that would surely wake someone else.

 

“C’mon,” Al insists. “We’re supposed to switch soon anyway. What’s another twenty minutes?’

 

June sighs. “Okay. You win.”

 

Al waits until June settles on the cot next to John and breathes evenly. Then Al swings her legs off the cot and reaches beneath it for her boots and jacket. The rain has let up a bit, but it’s going to be a damp night. If she’s lucky, she’ll be back before anyone notices she’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! I can't promise regular updates, as I'm kind of hoping to see where the show goes and how far away from the show's plot I'll have to venture, but I'll do my best.


	3. 3

Alicia awakes with a jolt, heart hammering in her chest, and it takes more than a minute for her to remember where she’s at. It floods back all at once. The plane crash. Luciana. The truck stop. Logan. Alicia sits up, unable to stop the trembling in her hands. The bandages are wet again, and Alicia has to squint through the darkness to figure out if they’re damp with blood or sweat or both.

 

Just sweat. Alicia breathes in relief, because if any spot of blood appeared on these stupid bandages, Al would make her –

 

Al. Alicia didn’t notice at first, but she does now. She looks over at Al’s cot, and it’s empty. Okay, so she went to the bathroom. That’s not a farfetched thought. A lot of people have to pee in the middle of the night. But when five minutes passes and Al doesn’t emerge from the back, Alicia gets up and goes to investigate for herself. The bathroom’s wide open, so Alicia checks at the desk. Maybe Al couldn’t sleep and tried to radio Strand. The desk is empty. The whole damn truck stop is empty.

 

There’s no way Al went out into that rain. It’s an absolute downpour out there, but Alicia climbs into the booth and peers through the blinds anyway.

 

The truck is missing.

 

“Oh my God,” Alicia says. She jumps out of the booth, yelling, “Guys! Al’s gone!”

 

June’s the first to wake up and mumble, “What?”

 

“Al is gone,” Alicia shouts. She points at the empty cot then flips it over to prove a point. “And all her shit is gone.”

 

“How do you know she’s not just in the bathroom?” John says from beneath his hat.

 

“I checked the whole place. The truck’s gone, too, and I watched her put her camera and shit under the cot, and it’s not there.”

 

“Okay, calm down,” Morgan says. He gets on his feet and reaches for Alicia, but she knocks his hand away. “Why would she have left?”

 

June’s face falls. “Oh my God,” she says. “She went back to the crash site to get some footage.”

 

“She isn’t stupid enough to go that far out in the middle of the night,” Alicia snaps.

 

“Apparently she is,” June says. “What time is it?”

 

“I’ve got 3:37,” John says.

 

“The sun won’t rise for another few hours,” Morgan says calmly. “Then, if she hasn’t returned, we can go looking for her.”

 

“We can’t just wait!” Alicia argues. “We don’t know how long she’s been gone!”

 

“She took over watch from me around two, so she hasn’t been gone too long,” June says. She rubs her forehead. “God, I should’ve known.”

 

“We can’t wait,” Alicia insists. “ _I’m_ not waiting. I’ll walk there if I have to.”

 

“Now, hold on,” Morgan says, grabbing Alicia’s arm. She can’t shake herself free this time. She bares her teeth at him as he says, “It’s dark and it’s raining. Al at least has the truck. You could get lost or attacked by the dead, and you won’t have the advantage of seeing where you’re going. We need to wait until the sun rises if we want a good chance to find her.”

 

“And there’s always the possibility she’ll return on her own before then,” John points out.

 

Alicia shakes her head then pries Morgan’s hand off her arm. “No,” she says. “This isn’t a debate. I’m going after her.”

 

“Alicia, Al’s our friend, too,” Morgan says. “Trust me, we all want to go after her, but it just isn’t safe. And we can’t all up and leave Luciana behind.”

 

“We don’t need to,” Alicia says. Alicia crouches and pulls the gun barrel from beneath her cot. “I’ll handle it.”

 

“Alicia, Morgan is right,” June says, getting up off her cot. “The second that sun rises, I’ll be out there searching with you. You know it’s a bad idea to go out there right now, and if something happens to you and Al comes back safely…”

 

“But what if Al doesn’t come back because we sat around and waited?” Alicia prompts. “I can’t just sit here. I have to _do_ something.”

 

In a way, it’s like being poisoned with antifreeze all over again. It’s the same sort of helplessness, the same inability to do anything about it. Except this time, Alicia and Al aren’t riding it out together. This time, Alicia’s on her own. She doesn’t even have Victor with her, and she knows if Victor was here, they’d already be out there.

 

“You’re sure she’s at the crash site?” Alicia questions.

 

“That’s the only place she’d go,” June says. “I don’t know. Check and see if she left a note or anything.”

 

Is Al really the note leaving type? Alicia doesn’t know, but she searches anyway, forcing herself not to tear the entire place apart. Her search doesn’t last long. There’s a neatly folded sheet of paper sitting atop the coffee pot, and Alicia snatches it and unfolds it. It’s definitely Al’s handwriting, all neat uppercase, and Alicia’s eyes skim it quickly.

 

_I had to get some footage from the crash. That’s an important part of the story. I’ll salvage some of our shit and make the trip even more worthwhile. I’m hoping I’ll be back in time so you won’t even need to read this, but I wrote this just in case. Don’t come looking for me. I’ll be back before you know it._

_Al_

Alicia’s hands tremble so violently she can barely read the last line. She hands the note over to June, not trusting herself to speak at the moment.

 

“Alicia, I know you’re angry,” Morgan starts, but Alicia swiftly cuts him off.

 

“I’m not angry,” she whispers.

 

“You’re shaking,” Morgan says. “You’ve obviously angry. Let’s just take some deep breaths. If we’re lucky, Al will be back soon.”

 

“When have we _ever_ been lucky?” Alicia hisses. She tightens her hold on the gun barrel. “I’m going. I dare you to stop me.”

 

“Alicia, please,” Morgan says. “Just give her some more time. If June’s right and she left sometime around two, she might be on her way back right now. You might end up passing each other up, then we’ll have to go find you.”

 

Alicia barely hears what Morgan says over the rain and the blood rushing in her ears. How could she do this to her? How could she go out there, alone, in the middle of the night? Especially after Alicia basically gave her the cold shoulder the rest of the evening because Al bothered to give a damn about her bloody hands.

 

What if she ends up like Nick? Or Ofelia?

 

The only thing worse than Al not coming back would be Al coming back with a bite. Because at least while she’s out there, Alicia knows there’s the possibility that she’s alive and unharmed. But if she comes back with a bite –

 

That’s on Alicia. At least, that’s how Alicia sees it.

 

“I’m going now,” Alicia declares. She raids the place for a working flashlight. “Where are the walkies?”

 

“I’m not sure the walkie will work with this rain,” Morgan says.

 

“Wait,” June says. “Maybe Al took one with her. Maybe we can contact her.”

 

“It’s worth a shot,” Morgan says, but Alicia has already rushed to the other room where the radio is set up. Alicia drops into the chair and pulls the mic forward.

 

“Al? Al, do you copy?” Alicia says. When she receives silence, she repeats, “ _Al_. Do you copy?”

 

More static. Alicia slams her hand against the desk then immediately regrets it as her hand reminds her of its fragile state.

 

With the hand that isn’t currently throbbing, Alicia reaches out to hold down the button again so she can say, “Jesus, Al, _please_ answer your damn walkie.”

 

There’s an odd crackling sound. Then –

 

“Hey, someone looking for me?” Al’s gruff voice says.

 

“Al?” Alicia questions. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

 

“Alicia, that must be you,” Al laughs. “Look, I’ve got the truck loaded with supplies.”

 

“And you got your fucking footage!” Alicia snaps. “When you get back, I swear I’m –” Alicia can’t think of an adequate threat, and her throat has suddenly constricted as tears spill down her cheeks. She releases the button and wipes at her eyes with her shirt.

 

“Hey, nothing’s happened,” Al promises. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

 

“You might be the stupidest fucking person I’ve ever known,” Alicia replies.

 

“Ouch,” Al says. “Thanks to me, Luciana’s going to get better medical treatment than the truck stop alone can provide.”

 

“So you found pills. We could’ve done that in the fucking morning! You know, with sunlight and no fucking rain.”

 

“The rain’s a lot lighter out here, actually,” Al says.

 

“Don’t be a smartass! Come back _now_.”

 

Silence.

 

“Al, did you hear me? Come back!”

 

More silence. Al wouldn’t purposefully ignore her. Something must’ve happened.

 

“She responded?” June asks from the doorway.

 

Alicia jumps but manages to say, “Yeah, but she – something happened. She wouldn’t just stop responding.”

 

“You’re sure?” June questions.

 

“Yes!” Alicia bursts. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ve got to go –”

 

“Alicia, it’s the middle of the night,” June says. “First thing, you and I will go after her, but it’s more likely she’s just out of range. Lost signal. I bet you she’s on her way back.”

 

Alicia shakes her head. “Something’s wrong. I know it.”

 

June leans against the doorframe and purses her lips. “Alicia, don’t you think maybe you’re overreacting a little?”

 

“She ran off in the middle of the night while the rest of us were sleeping,” Alicia says. “I don’t think I’m overreacting.”

 

“That isn’t what I meant.”

 

“Then what do you mean?”

 

“I mean,” June says gently, “you’re getting yourself incredibly worked up, and we both know Al’s more than capable of taking care of herself.”

 

“Al’s more than stupid, apparently,” Alicia replies. “I’m more than capable of taking care of myself, and I still wouldn’t head out in the middle of the night while it’s raining to do _anything_ –”

 

“Anything except going after Al,” June points out. “I’m pretty sure if I stop blocking the doorway, you’re going to bolt.”

 

Alicia makes an indignant face and splutters but isn’t able to think of a solid defense. Eventually, she settles for, “I’m not going to bolt.”

 

“You want to, logic be damned.” June sighs. “I’m worried, too, but we need to find a way to stay calm. The moment the sun starts to come up, we’ll head out.”

 

“But you think she’ll be back,” Alicia says. “I know she won’t.”

 

“You can’t know that.”

 

“But I do.”

 

“How?” June challenges. “Please, explain how you know Al’s not coming back right now.”

 

Alicia hesitates. “It’s a feeling.”

 

“A feeling?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And every feeling you have is correct?”

 

“This one is.”

 

“Five o’clock,” June proposes. “At five, if she isn’t back, we’ll head out. There should be enough light by then.”

 

That’s only about an hour. Plenty of time for Al to get back. “Fine,” Alicia agrees. “Five exactly.”

 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

“Be ready to go,” Alicia says. “Or I’ll leave you behind.”

 

June moves aside to let Alicia pass, and Alicia sits in the booth and pulls the blinds up. Her eyes don’t leave the window until John tells her it’s 4:58. No one has slept a minute since Alicia first woke them; they’ve all just been sitting, lying around, but now, Alicia’s going to do something. She grabs her gun barrel and nods toward the door.

 

“June, let’s go,” Alicia says.

 

“It’s a long walk,” June reminds.

 

“You ladies are in luck,” John says. “I packed a bag.”

 

But the bag is on his back. John and June take each other’s hand, and Alicia looks away. She won’t argue about John coming along. Honestly, it’s probably better that way. But Alicia wishes Luciana wasn’t hurt, because she’d much rather have Luciana by her side than John.

 

“Make sure you use the walkie if there’s a problem,” Morgan tells Alicia. “Stick to the road, in case Al passes you.”

 

“She hasn’t left,” Alicia says. “Otherwise, she’d be here by now. Keep your walkie on. I’ll let you know once we’ve found her.”

 

June and John follow Alicia out of the truck stop. The dead are mostly beyond the gates, and it’s nothing they can’t easily handle. Alicia leads the way, June navigating from behind although Alicia easily remembers the way they came. They follow one road, and after only twenty minutes of walking, Alicia spots a suitable car.

 

“You’re going to hotwire it?” June asks.

 

“No,” Alicia replies. “The keys are in the ignition.”

 

“So it’s probably out of gas,” John pipes up.

 

Alicia takes the driver’s seat and twists the key. The engine roars to life, and there’s a half a tank of gas in the car. “Nope,” Alicia calls. “Come on.”

 

John and June both slide into the backseat, and Alicia grits her teeth and tightens her hold on the steering wheel. She adjusts the rearview mirror so John and June are out of her line of sight.

 

“If I start going the wrong way,” Alicia starts, but June quickly says, “I’ll make sure we’re on track.”

 

Maybe Alicia purposefully presses the accelerator a little harder than necessary, giving John and June a good jolt and a reminder to wear their seatbelts. Alicia speeds off, unable to hear anything John or June mutters in the backseat. They talk the entire way back to the crash site, and Alicia barely catches a word. John and June only go silent once Alicia pulls off road and drives haphazardly through the sparsely wooded area.

 

“There!” Alicia says. She slams on the breaks, jostling John and June around once more, and barely gets the car in park before she’s out the door. Alicia sprints downhill toward the truck, parked just in sight of the wreckage. She nearly trips over her own feet and sends herself tumbling, but just barely manages to stay upright. She skids to a stop beside the truck and peers through the window, but the inside is empty. Alicia’s hopes of finding Al dozing in the front seat fall flat on its face.

 

“This wreckage has definitely been picked through,” June observes.

 

“I could’ve told you that,” Alicia mutters. The truck bed is neatly packed with their luggage from the plane.

 

“Hey, at least the truck is still here,” John says, adjusting his hat. “That’s a good sign. She’s got to be nearby.”

 

Unless she was attacked by the dead. Then the truck doesn’t really matter, does it? Alicia keeps that thought to herself. Something rustles in the trees nearby, and Alicia pulls the gun barrel from her belt. Of course, part of her irrationally hopes the rustling is Al returning to the truck. Alicia turns to face the source of the sound and sees just one dead thing stumble into the clearing. Alicia suppresses a sigh and walks to meet the dead, jamming the sharp end of the gun barrel up through the bottom of its jaw into its brain. She shoves it aside before it can fall on her and frees her weapon.

 

Alicia exhales heavily then faces June and John.

 

“Spread out,” she orders. “We’re going to find her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the radiation plotline is great and all, but I’m not sure if that’s where I want to go with this. I guess we’ll see. Leave me your thoughts in the comments! I’d love to hear from you, and I’ll be sure to reply back!


	4. 4

Al wakes up with a massive headache. Like, worse than a long night of drinking with your friends that keep putting shots in your hand even though you’re already way beyond fucked up kind of headache. Her eyes open but immediately shut, and she dazedly wonders when the fuck it became daytime. She then has to wonder why the fuck she’s staring up at a blue sky.

 

There’s a weird ringing in her left ear, but her right ear definitely hears the growls of the dead, way too close by. She lifts her head, but the sharp pain that shoots from her ear into her skull forces her to gently lie it back on the dirt. She reaches up and finds the side of her face sticky, only confirming it to be blood when she brings her hand in front of her eyes. The source of the blood is currently undetermined, but Al’s more worried about the sound of the dead –

 

She manages to roll her head to the side and sees why the dead sounds so close. The thing’s maybe ten feet away from her, tops, and the only reason it hasn’t picked her bones clean is because it’s impaled through its torso on a stray piece of rebar from the wreckage. It still reaches for Al, although it’s never going to get the chance to get its hands on her, and it gnashes its teeth and snarls, and it’s one of the ones that’s missing a good portion of its face. Clearly this guy’s story ended with the dead chomping down on him.

 

Speaking of the story, where’s the camera? Al lifts her head again, gritting her teeth against the pain, and forces herself upright. The world spins for a moment, but Al has no choice but to shake it off. Her dumbass came out here alone, and now her dumbass has to find a way back to the truck then back to her people.

 

Back to Alicia.

 

God, if the sun’s already up, Alicia definitely knows Al went on her own. Then Al realizes just because the sun’s out doesn’t mean it’s the next day from when she left. Jesus, what if she’s been out here, unconscious, for more than one day? Two days? Three? There’s nothing to indicate the passage of time.

 

A reflection catches Al’s eye in the middle of her mental chastising of herself. She twists around, still not trusting herself to get to her feet, and her eyes settle on a sizable creek. There’s a familiar hunk of technology resting just within the creek, maybe twenty feet behind Al.

 

“Oh, fuck,” Al groans. “No, no, _no_.”

 

Now that’s she’s crawling, the dead man goes into a greater frenzy, desperately trying to free itself from the pole it’s trapped on. If the thing’s lucky, it’ll rip right through its own torso in its attempt to reach Al – not that that’ll stop it. Al pats herself down in search of a weapon. She knows she brought one. She may be stupid, but she isn’t _that_ fucking stupid. She comes up empty, for now, but there’s something more important to be taken care of right this moment.

 

Al pulls her camera out of the creek, wriggling it free from where it’s lodged between two rocks. The camera was half submerged, but if everything aligns in the universe –

 

It won’t turn on. And the tape was definitely underwater for God knows how long, too.

 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Al hisses. She resists the urge to slam the camera into the ground and reminds herself maybe something can be done back at the denim factory. At least this camera is just the backup, Al tells herself. At least her main camera is safe in the SWAT van, with almost all of her tapes, being watched over by Strand and Charlie.

 

But now this solo trip was mostly pointless. Mostly, Al thinks. At least there’s the truck full of supplies.

 

Speaking of the truck, where is it?

 

The snarling dead is making it hard for Al to think properly – but that might also be attributed to the ongoing ringing in her left ear and the scrambled state of Al’s brains. She drops back to the earth, clutching onto the camera, and she tries to remember what happened. Without the footage she knows she shot to assist her.

 

“Help me out here, buddy,” Al says. She smiles to herself as the dead snaps its jaws in response. Al chuckles and lifts the camera as if she’s going to film the thing. “Tell me what happened,” she says, “because I sure as fuck don’t know.”

 

She sets the camera on the ground beside her and lets her eyes close. She remembers leaving the truck stop. The rain wasn’t as heavy, but it must’ve picked back up at some point, because Al’s clothes are soaked through, down to her underwear, and she doesn’t think it’s because she went for a swim in the creek. She know she came out here with at least one weapon. She definitely had a knife on her. So where’s the knife and where’s the truck?

 

Al reopens her eyes and forces herself to take in her surroundings. She woke up on her back in the dirt with blood on the side of her face. There’s a creek behind her, and her camera was in it, stuck between two rocks and partially submerged. The knife is out of sight and so is the truck.

 

Then Al realizes she’s been staring up a hill this entire time. So, logically, she probably took a tumble down the hill, dropped the knife and camera, and the truck is somewhere up the hill.

 

“Genius,” Al says aloud. “I’m the dumbest fucking genius alive, buddy,” she tells the dead. “Or the smartest fucking dumbass alive. Either way, you’re lucky to know me.”

 

Al pushes herself back up and gingerly touches the side of her face with her hand again. It comes away smeared with more blood, but Al’s face doesn’t hurt. She pokes her fingertips all the way up to her hairline, but there’s no source of pain, no open wound that’s causing the bleeding. Surely if her head hit something on the way down –

 

“Al?”

 

Al blinks. She definitely hit her head again, because now she’s hearing voices that aren’t her own. She’s pretty sure the voice in her head isn’t supposed to sound like John Dorie.

 

“Al!”

 

Okay, the voices aren’t in her head. She totally knew that. Al forces herself to her feet, grabbing the camera on the way and hooking it to her belt. Her eyes scan the dirt around her quickly, just in case her knife happens to be lying in plain sight somewhere close. Al’s head is still threatening to make the world shift upside down, but she needs to walk that feeling off fast. The dead guy succeeds in doing what Al feared he would: he rips through his own torso to free himself. And now he’s shambling straight toward her, just slightly off balance from his tattered midsection.

 

And Al is weaponless. Okay. Shit. She takes a few steps back and looks around for a large rock or something heavy but wieldable. When she comes up empty, with the dead guy still advancing, she does the one thing that might save her.

 

“Hey! I’m down here!” she yells. She sidesteps the dead’s first swipe at her and kicks his legs out from under him. His body smacks to the ground and immediately starts to get back up, but it buys Al enough time to start ascending the hill. She just can’t let her brain shut down and send her falling backward. She’s nearly halfway up the hill when the bang of a gunshot makes the ringing in her left ear twenty times worse. Al’s forced to her knees as pain sears through her head. She grits her teeth, but she isn’t even sure what’s causing the pain.

 

“Hey, I’ve got her!” John shouts over his shoulder. He holsters the revolver and carefully makes his way to Al, holding his hand out. “Come on,” he says, “let me help you up.”

 

“Is she okay?” June calls from somewhere behind John. It’s only then that Al notices how warped her hearing seems. Like she’s only properly hearing out of her right ear. She grabs onto John’s forearm with her right hand as she brings her left back up to her face, inching her fingers closer to her ear.

 

“I don’t know,” John answers. “There’s some blood.”

 

He hauls Al back onto her feet and assists her the rest of the way up the hill. The second Al reaches the top, she releases her hold on John’s arm.

 

“What happened?” June frets, immediately appearing at Al’s side.

 

“I don’t know,” Al admits. “Must’ve fallen down the hill. The camera’s fucking busted.”

 

“Forget about the camera,” June says. She grabs Al by the chin and turns her head to the side. “You’re bleeding.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Al says. “I can’t find the cut.”

 

“Because it isn’t a cut,” June says. “You’re bleeding from your ear.”

 

Oh. That explains a lot. Al grins. “So that’s why my hearing’s all fucked up, huh?”

 

“This isn’t funny, Al,” June says.

 

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed,” John adds. “If that thing had gotten to you sooner –”

 

Maybe John finishes his sentence. Al doesn’t hear it, and it isn’t because her one ear’s messed up. Alicia emerges from the woods, gun barrel in hand, and she freezes the instant her eyes land on Al. Al glances over at June then takes three steps forward. She holds her arms out to the side briefly and manages to say, “So I’m alive.”

 

The gun barrel hits the dirt. So Alicia wants to kill her with her bare hands. A fine choice. Alicia charges at Al – at least she’s not going to drag it out – then as Al braces herself, Alicia launches herself into Al’s arms. She wraps both of her arms around Al’s neck and locks her legs around Al’s waist. Al barely gets her arms securely around Alicia’s body, muscles straining under her weight. Al very narrowly keeps her legs from buckling and sending them both to the ground. Though if it happened, she doubts Alicia would let go, for one thing, and she also doubts Alicia would care very much. At least in this moment.

 

“Okay, so I knew they were friends,” John says under his breath to June. “But I didn’t know they were _good_ friends.”

 

“John,” June says, taking his hand in hers.

 

“What?” John defends. “I thought they were, you know, _I-can-tolerate-you-but-I-don’t-really-like-you_ kind of friends.”

 

June shakes her head. “Sweetie, you need to open your eyes,” she tells him.

 

It isn’t until John clears his throat that Alicia drops her legs back to the ground. Her arms are slower to follow, sliding back until Alicia plants her bandaged palms against Al’s collarbones. Their eyes lock, and Alicia’s lower lip trembles.

 

“You _idiot_ ,” Alicia hisses.

 

“I’m sorry,” Al says.

 

“If you _ever_ do something like this again –”

 

“I know,” Al says.

 

Alicia blinks until the urge to cry passes. “Good,” she says.

 

“The truck’s loaded up,” Al informs. “We should head back.”

 

“I hope it was worth it,” Alicia says. “Now that you’ve got your stupid footage –”

 

“I don’t, actually,” Al cuts in.

 

“I’m sorry. What?” Alicia says. She holds her arm out to stop Al from walking past her, and Al merely shrugs.

 

“Camera’s busted,” she says. “Fell in the creek when I went down the hill.”

 

Al removes the camera from her belt and hands it to Alicia. She watches as Alicia tries to get the thing to work, but of course, it doesn’t come back on. Once Alicia is satisfied with the deadness of the camera, she heaves it into the woods.

 

“Hey!” Al protests. Alicia grabs Al by the wrist and yanks her back before she can run after the camera.

 

“It’s dead,” Alicia says. “No reason to hold onto it.” She shakes her head. “I can’t _believe_ you left us in the middle of the night to film the wreckage. And then you don’t even get the footage.”

 

“I –” Al pauses, eyebrows pulling together in confusion. “Wait. Since when do you care about my footage?”

 

Alicia smacks the heel of her hand against Al’s shoulder. “Since you went and risked your life for it, you idiot!”

 

“I found even more meds for Luciana,” Al argues.

 

“We could’ve come back together,” Alicia points out.

 

“No,” Al says quietly. “Morgan’s looking forward, not back.”

 

“Well, Morgan doesn’t make decisions without me,” Alicia says.

 

“Speaking of Morgan,” June interrupts. “We should let him know we’ve got Al and we’re on our way back.”

 

Alicia nods curtly. She passes the walkie to June and goes to retrieve her gun barrel. June speaks to Morgan as Al follows after Alicia.

 

“Alicia,” Al calls.

 

Alicia scoops up the barrel. “This is probably the stupidest thing you’ve done since –”

 

“Since when?” Al challenges.

 

“Since you tried to defend Charlie and I nearly shoved you out of your van into the dead.”

 

“I’ve done plenty of other stupid things,” Al jokes.

 

“Yeah,” Alicia agrees. “Like this.”

 

“I didn’t die.”

 

“Yeah, but you will if you keep being this reckless,” Alicia growls.

 

“Alright, let’s split,” June announces. “You two take the sedan. John and I will take the truck and lead the way back.” June pauses. “Don’t forget to wear your seatbelts.”

 

“You can’t drive,” Alicia says, “so don’t get that idea in your head.”

 

“I wasn’t going to try to drive,” Al grumbles. “Something’s not right with my head.”

 

“Obviously.”

 

“Hey!”

 

Alicia fights off a smile and gets behind the wheel. She puts her seatbelt on and waits for Al to do the same. Al immediately pulls the visor down and inspects the side of her face in the small mirror. No surprise, June’s right. The blood’s coming from her ear.

 

“Did you hear what John said?” Alicia questions.

 

“What?” Al says. “I’m not being a jackass. You’re just facing my bad ear.”

 

“Did you hear what John said?” Alicia repeats but louder.

 

“That thing about not thinking we were good friends? I heard, like, half of it.” Al glances over at Alicia. “What about it?” she asks. “John’s the least observant person in the group.”

 

“Forget I said anything,” Alicia mutters.

 

“No,” Al says. “Obviously it’s bothering you –”

 

“And it’s bothering me more that it isn’t bothering you,” Alicia spits. “John doesn’t think we even like each other as friends.”

 

“So? He doesn’t really pay attention –”

 

“Give me your hand,” Alicia says abruptly.

 

“What?”

 

“GIVE ME YOUR HAND!”

 

Al winces. “I heard you just fine. I don’t get –”

 

Alicia reaches over and grabs Al’s hand, dragging her arm across the center console, all without taking her eyes off the road. Alicia wishes the damn bandages weren’t so thick.

 

“Look, we haven’t been – things have been different since we crashed,” Al says. “But they’ll go back to normal once we’re back with Strand and the others.”

 

“Normal?” Alicia says. “So we take the denim factory back and…what? We keep doing this _thing_ without naming it or cueing the others in on it? We sleep in the same room but in separate beds? We sneak moments every few days when the others aren’t around? I don’t _want_ to go back to normal.”

 

Al sighs. “Things will get better.”

 

Alicia releases Al’s hand, but Al doesn’t move her hand from Alicia’s thigh. Alicia puts her hand back on the wheel, and the majority of the drive occurs in silence. Al checks on her ear four more times. The bleeding has stopped, at least, but it’s drying on her face, and that makes her look worse off than she really is. And –

 

“Aw, damn it,” Al says.

 

“What?”

 

“I got more blood on my jacket.”

 

Alicia fights off a smile. “You deserve that.” The look on Al’s face is enough to make Alicia bust out laughing. “Honestly, just find a new jacket, hon.”

 

“You don’t get it. This is _my_ jacket.”

 

Alicia shakes her head and mutters, “You and that damn jacket.” When Al asks her to repeat herself, she just smiles. “Make sure June checks on your ear,” Alicia says, loudly enough for Al to hear. “Hopefully your hearing returns. I can’t spend the rest of my life shouting.”

 

“The rest of your life?”

 

Alicia rolls her eyes. “If you run off like that again, the rest of my life won’t be much longer.”

 

“Just admit it,” Al says. She grins. “You totally just implied you’re going to spend the rest of your life with me.”

 

“That’s not at all what I implied, thank you very much.”

 

Al winks. “Sure.”

 

“All I implied was that the rest of my life won’t be very long,” Alicia says. “Because you’re going to give me a heart attack before I turn thirty.”

 

Al laughs and reaches back over. Alicia releases the steering wheel to take Al’s hand again. Their hands rest in Alicia’s lap until she pulls up in front of the truck stop. Al reluctantly takes her hand back as they watch June and John exit the pickup. John fires off a few shots to kill the dead that followed after their vehicles.

 

“Wait,” Alicia says. Al stops, hand on the door handle, and looks back. “Promise me you won’t go off on your own again.”

 

“I promise.”

 

“Now promise again but mean it.”

 

“I promise,” Al insists. “Okay? I promise.”

 

“Next time take me with you.”

 

Al grins. “You got it, babe.”

 

Alicia’s cheeks flush, but she leaves the car before Al has a chance to enjoy seeing Alicia blush. Alicia walks briskly back into the truck stop, and Morgan holds the door for her, allowing him to greet Al before she goes inside.

 

“That was irresponsible,” Morgan reprimands. “And you’ve hurt yourself again.”

 

“I know,” Al mutters. “It was stupid.”

 

“It was.”

 

“I at least hope you’ve got some good news for me,” Al says. “Is Strand on his way?”

 

“We’ll talk about that later,” Morgan says. “Have June look at you.”

 

Al takes up a booth and lets June poke around at her ear. She answers every question June throws at her obediently, unable to keep her eyes from flicking over to Alicia. She’s sitting with Luciana, and Luciana keeps saying something about picking up the accordion. Alicia laughs each time Luciana brings up the accordion and agrees that she should learn how to play.

 

“I always wanted to learn how to play the ukulele,” Alicia says, and Luciana laughs like it’s the funniest shit she’s ever heard. Luciana holds onto Alicia’s wrist as she laughs, and Alicia smiles widely. “You don’t believe I can do it?”

 

“This is the drugs laughing,” Luciana replies.

 

“Al,” June says sharply. “Did you hear a word I said?”

 

“What? No,” Al says. “I can’t hear out of my left ear properly.”

 

“I’m pretty sure you ruptured your eardrum,” June says. She finishes wiping the blood from Al’s face. “It should heal on its own. If you’re lucky.” June packs up the first aid kit then says, “Can you come with me outside please?”

 

Al’s eyebrows pull together, but she follows June outside. Al pulls the door shut behind them and says, “What’re we doing out here?”

 

June puts her hands on her hips. “I don’t think you took your eyes off Alicia once since we found you. What’s going on?”

 

Al scoffs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Hmm. Sure you don’t.”

 

“I really don’t,” Al says.

 

“Really?” June says. “Because if Morgan or John – even if Luciana or I were missing – Alicia wouldn’t have reacted the way she did when she saw you.”

 

Al clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. She rubs at the back of her neck. “I really don’t know what to tell you, June,” Al says.

 

“I think you do,” June says softly. “I think you just don’t want to tell me.”

 

June heads back inside, and Al hears Alicia and Luciana’s laughter before the door shuts. She exhales heavily and runs a hand through her hair. She’s camera-less, June’s suspicious, and Alicia hasn’t been herself since Al crashed that goddamn plane.

 

Maybe if she hadn’t crashed – maybe if she hadn’t agreed to fly in the first place – none of this would be happening. Logan wouldn’t have their home, Al wouldn’t have felt the need to go film that stupid wreckage and wouldn’t have lost her backup camera, Luciana wouldn’t be injured, and –

 

And Alicia wouldn’t have another thing to hold over Al’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second episode had a disappointing lack of Al in it, and I couldn’t bring myself to put off Alicia and Al’s reunion too long. As always, feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments! Thanks for reading!


	5. 5

“I can’t feel my fingers, but June says that’s normal,” Luciana says. “I really need the feeling in my fingers back. I can’t play the accordion if I can’t –”

 

Alicia laughs so hard Luciana doesn’t finish her sentence, instead opting to join in on the laughter. They lie side by side on the table. June gave Luciana another dose of pain pills not long ago, and she’s back on the accordion talk. Morgan’s been trying to contact Strand for the past couple hours, but so far, it seems that he’s had no luck. No one else has responded, either, and Alicia has a bad feeling Logan’s listening to everything they’re saying.

 

Alicia pushes her worries aside for now. Luciana’s been smiling for the first time since they crashed. Alicia isn’t going to ruin that by throwing a fit about how they have to stay at this truck stop another night. Tonight, though, Alicia’s going to stay awake and make sure Al stays put.

 

Al plants herself in the booth once she comes inside from talking to June and doesn’t move the rest of the day. Without her camera, she resorts to reading books off the shelves. Alicia watches her start one, abandon it, start another, abandon that one, too, and she does it a third time. After the third one, Alicia calls, “Just pick a book and read it, will you?”

 

“It’s not my fault they’re all boring as shit,” Al replies.

 

“You’re being too picky,” John jests from his cot. He’s been there for the past hour at least, lying on his back and holding a book above his face. “You can have mine if you’d like,” he offers. “It’s about, er, lawyers, I guess.”

 

“That sounds terrible,” Al says. “I’m gonna give this one a try.”

 

“We have to get out of here,” Luciana says suddenly. “I can’t stay trapped in this room with you guys forever.”

 

“I know,” Alicia agrees. “But you also need time to heal.”

 

“And we’re waiting on Victor to get his shit together,” Luciana jokes.

 

“He’ll find a way,” Alicia assures her.

 

Luciana manages a weak smile. “I know.”

 

The expression on Morgan’s face when he emerges from the radio room, as Alicia has taken to calling it, does not suggest that Strand is going to find a way. Morgan’s expression quickly turns neutral, though, and he says, “I’m going to go secure the perimeter before sundown.”

 

“Let me,” Al offers, snapping her book shut. “This book is shit, too.”

 

“You have a ruptured eardrum,” June says. “I don’t think you should see any action until it heals.”

 

“I agree,” Morgan says.

 

“I can’t just sit here anymore,” Al grumbles.

 

Morgan hesitates. “Strand’s working on finding us a way back.”

 

“A way back to what, exactly?” Alicia asks. She sits upright and swivels so her legs hang off the table. “Logan got us to basically hand him our home. Don’t tell me we’re going back to living in the van, because that was way too cramped for me.”

 

“We won’t be living in the van,” Morgan says. “I can tell you that.”

 

Morgan leaves to secure the perimeter, and Alicia slides off the table, touching her fingertips to Luciana’s arm before heading to the bathroom. The generator hasn’t died out yet – maybe the one good thing that’s happened besides finding Al relatively unharmed – _yet_ being the key word. The bathroom’s lit by a single lightbulb, and the mirror on the wall is severely cracked, like someone punched it once upon a time. Alicia stands in front of the mirror and stares down at her hands. Slowly, she starts to unwind the bandage on her left hand.

 

An unidentifiable, quiet sound catches her attention, and Alicia freezes. She glances back at the doorway. The door’s only half shut. Alicia didn’t bother to close it. She didn’t think anyone would be dumb enough to follow her. Alicia grabs the door and yanks it all the way open before poking her head out into the hall.

 

“Jesus!” Alicia exclaims. Al holds her hands up defensively, but Alicia just rolls her eyes and ducks back into the bathroom. “Stop doing that,” Alicia complains.

 

“What’re you doing?” Al questions, leaning against the doorframe. Alicia glances at Al in the cracked mirror.

 

“Checking my hands,” Alicia mutters. “Making sure I don’t develop an infection. You know. That fun stuff.”

 

Al holds her hand out. “May I?”

 

Alicia looks back at Al and raises her eyebrows. “May you what?”

 

“Just give me your hand.”

 

Alicia sighs and sets her hand in Al’s, watching as Al carefully unwinds the bandage. “So you can hear again?” Alicia questions.

 

Al grins and shakes her head. “Not at all. I’m pretty sure I’m completely deaf in my left ear now.”

 

“But when it heals, your hearing will come back, right?”

 

Al shrugs and gets the bandage off, tossing it in the trash behind Alicia. “I have no idea. Maybe. Guess we’ll find out when it heals.” Al’s eyes fixate on the jagged scar cutting its way through the middle of Alicia’s palm. “It’s done bleeding,” Al observes.

 

“I could’ve told you that.”

 

“It still looks raw. Does it hurt?”

 

Alicia makes a noncommittal sound. “Only sometimes.”

 

Al switches Alicia’s hands out and removes the other bandage. “You think they’ll start bleeding again?” Al asks.

 

“Only if I do something stupid.”

 

“June’s got to have an antiseptic of some sort, right?” Al says.

 

“It doesn’t need antiseptic anymore,” Alicia says. “They’ve done most of their healing.”

 

“I think you should –”

 

“I think _you_ should stop making unwanted suggestions and rewrap my hands.” Alicia holds both her hands out, palms up, and wiggles her fingers. “Come on. You had to be the one to take the bandages off, so you can put the new ones on.”

 

Al laughs, quietly enough not to draw the attention of anyone in the front of the truck stop, and agrees. She swiftly rewraps both of Alicia’s hands then admires her handiwork. “I could take over for June,” she quips.

 

“No,” Alicia says. “No, you couldn’t. You thought you could fly a plane, and look how that went.”

 

“You’re going to hold that over me forever, aren’t you?” Al says.

 

“For a while, at least,” Alicia replies. She hesitates then reaches up and fixes the collar of Al’s shirt so it lays properly. Alicia lets her hands linger, fingertips tracing along the sides of Al’s neck.

 

“I’m sorry,” Al murmurs.

 

“Stop apologizing,” Alicia says. “I think you’ve been punished enough.”

 

“You sure?” Al questions. “I mean, I only crashed a plane and stranded us, lost half my hearing after I ran off on my own, and got blood all over my damn jacket.”

 

“I’ll find you a new jacket if you shut up about it,” Alicia says. “And you broke your camera.”

 

“And I broke my camera.” Al frowns. “But I don’t know how it could’ve landed in the creek like that. It was too…perfect.”

 

“You’re just overthinking it,” Alicia says.

 

“You really had to throw it in the woods?”

 

“It’s useless anyway.”

 

Al sighs. “Yeah.”

 

“You didn’t lose too much,” Alicia reminds. “You’re lucky.”

 

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

 

“What did you tell the others?” Alicia asks suddenly. Her fingers curl around to the back of Al’s neck, stroking at the short hairs there. “Why do they think you followed me to the bathroom?”

 

“I was supposed to say something?” Al says. She cracks a smile. “Because I didn’t. I mean, Morgan’s killing the dead, Luciana’s sleeping, and John and June are being John-and-June, you know? What was there to say?” Al’s smile slides. “Besides, they all think we’re friends now, remember? Friends check on friends.”

 

“And that doesn’t bother you. They think we’re _friends_.”

 

“I didn’t say that.”

 

Rather than say anything else, Alicia steps in, wrapping both arms tightly around Al’s neck. She lets her eyes close and exhales softly as Al’s chin drops to her shoulder.

 

“I know you’re not stupid,” Alicia whispers, her lips next to Al’s good ear. “So I really cannot figure out why you’d leave in the middle of the night without me.”

 

“I had a lapse in judgment. And I thought you’d stop me.”

 

“I would’ve tried.”

 

“And failed.”

 

“Exactly,” Alicia says. “I would’ve gone with you. We could’ve been actually alone.”

 

“In the rain in the middle of the night when the dead were nearby,” Al says.

 

“Well, without me, you fell down a hill, ruptured an eardrum, and murdered your backup camera.”

 

“There’s something not right about that story,” Al muses. “What ruptured my eardrum?”

 

“Al.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Please shut up now.”

 

Alicia shifts back, moving her hands to Al’s neck once more, and pulls her down. All the tension leaves Alicia’s body the moment her lips touch Al’s. Alicia can’t help but be insistent – the last time she kissed Al was before they loaded the plane up, and it was just a short one, for luck. Alicia’s hand drops to Al’s waist, pushing to her back. Alicia grasps a handful of the soft material of Al’s shirt, pressing her fist into Al’s back and holding them together.

 

Al groans, and Alicia takes that as a good sign until she says, “Mm, stop, _ow_.”

 

“What?” Alicia says, pulling back abruptly. Al reaches back and pries Alicia’s fist open, forcing Alicia to release her shirt.

 

“My back,” Al says.

 

“What about your back?”

 

“It fucking hurts,” Al says. She turns around and says, “Look at it for me.”

 

She lifts the back of her shirt halfway up, and Alicia can’t stop herself from reaching out to touch her fingertips to the purple splotches covering Al’s lower back. Al hisses, and Alicia quickly pulls her hand back.

 

“What is it?” Al asks.

 

“It’s just bruised,” Alicia answers. “You did fall quite a ways, you know. Maybe you hit something on your way down. Or bent it weird or something.”

 

“Is it bad?”

 

“Yeah, kinda,” Alicia says. “But it’s just bruised. Nothing you can do about it. How come you didn’t notice before?”

 

“I don’t know. It didn’t hurt until you pushed on it.”

 

“Gee, sorry,” Alicia mutters.

 

“I didn’t mean to –”

 

“I know,” Alicia interrupts. “It’s fine.”

 

Al drops her shirt and turns back around. “Well, fuck,” she exclaims. “This sucks.”

 

“Don’t fall down hills,” Alicia says.

 

Al shakes her head but grins. “You’re not funny.”

 

“June has pain pills,” Alicia suggests. She presses her palms flat against Al’s stomach, careful to stay away from any of the bruising.

 

“I’m not going to waste June’s pain pills. Luciana needs them more than I do.”

 

“Suit yourself.” Alicia pauses. “We should go back before someone gets suspicious.”

 

“June’s already suspicious.”

 

“Yeah, well, Victor knows,” Alicia admits. “He’s just too polite to bring it up.”

 

“Then how you can know he knows?”

 

Alicia shoots Al a look and says, “Believe me. I know.” She pats Al’s stomach gently and says, “You go back. I’m gonna poke around this place a bit more.”

 

“We’ve already searched it.”

 

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna look again,” Alicia says. “Go on. I’ll be there soon.”

 

Al purses her lips but spins around and goes to join the others. Alicia heads in the opposite direction, toward the back of the truck stop, and she searches through cabinets, drawers, closets – any place she finds – because she know she saw _it_ somewhere. She was going to let it stay there, too, but now she feels bad. So here she is, tearing up the truck stop a second time to find it.

 

“Aha,” Alicia says quietly to herself. “Gotcha.”

 

She tucks it into the pocket inside her jacket and hopes it isn’t too noticeable. She returns to find Luciana, John, and June all fast asleep, and Alicia’s arrival signals to Morgan that he can sleep now, too.

 

“First watch is yours, Alicia,” Morgan tells her as he settles in. “And tonight, we’re going to have two people on watch at a time, so you’re with Al.”

 

“You really don’t trust me, huh?” Al jokes. “I know, Morgan, don’t remind me.”

 

Morgan turns his back to them and almost instantly begins to snore. Al sprawls out on her cot, on her stomach, and turns her head toward Alicia, but Alicia abandons her cot once she’s sure everyone’s sleeping. She sits on the ground next to Al’s head and reaches into her jacket pocket.

 

“Uh oh. You’re gonna shank me. I knew it.”

 

“Shut up,” Alicia says. “I found something.”

 

“Yeah? Something good? Something fun?”

 

“You tell me,” Alicia says. She grabs Al’s hand and plops a digital camcorder into it. “I know it’s not really your style – digital and all, way too twenty-first century for you – but it’s the best I can do for now.”

 

Al sits up and stares at the camera sitting in her hand. “Wow,” she says. “You’re really gonna make me cry.”

 

“Don’t cry!” Alicia says, grasping onto Al’s knee. “You aren’t supposed to cry!”

 

“Good tears,” Al says. “But I’ll hold off.”

 

“There’s a cord, too, to charge it, but I don’t know how much longer the generator will last.”

 

Al starts messing with the camera and determines it’s been wiped of any previous content. Then she immediately turns the camera on Alicia. Alicia tries to knock Al’s hand aside, but Al refuses to let her.

 

“C’mon,” Al says. “Just look at me.”

 

“Stop, oh my God,” Alicia says. She changes course and tries to push Al off the cot, shoving at her abdomen, but Al holds her ground and laughs as she films Alicia’s attempts to get her to stop, resulting in Alicia covering her face with her hands.

 

“You’re weak, Clark.”

 

“I hate you.”

 

Al laughs harder. “No you don’t.”

 

Alicia grabs onto Al’s wrist, though Al merely switches the camera to her free hand, but Alicia stops trying to get Al to not film her. Instead, she pulls Al’s arm down, grasps Al’s hand in both of her own, and smiles.

 

“No,” Alicia agrees, “I don’t.”

 

“Don’t start getting sappy now,” Al says.

 

“You’re sappy,” Alicia retorts. “You’re the one that wants to film everything for posterity.”

 

“I’m not filming you for posterity. Well, not _just_ for posterity.”

 

“Then why are you filming me?” Alicia asks directly to the camera.

 

“Because maybe I want to be able to see your face when you’re not here.”

 

Alicia’s nose wrinkles. “You don’t need to film my face when you can see it in person. It’s not like I’m going to leave you.”

 

“Not intentionally,” Al says.

 

“I thought we agreed not to talk about our possible premature deaths.”

 

“We did,” Al says. “This thing is, like, HD. You look fantastic.”

 

Alicia’s face reddens, but she rolls her eyes. “You think I look fantastic on your other camera, too.”

 

“Because you do. It’s just – look, HD!”

 

“You’re such a nerd,” Alicia chuckles. She humors Al and watches the playback. “Wait, that’s such high quality,” Alicia says. “You need to switch to digital.”

 

“Wish I could.” Al smiles wryly. “It doesn’t last as long out here.”

 

Alicia hums and braces her hands against the side of Al’s cot. “Move over.”

 

“But –”

 

“Just do it,” Alicia sighs. Al slides over, giving Alicia enough room to sit cross-legged to Al’s right. They look at each other, Al holding the camera in her lap, and Alicia grins. “You know, for the first few weeks after the dead started walking, I kept my phone charged.”

 

“What?” Al laughs.

 

“Yeah,” Alicia says, nodding. “That thing didn’t die a single time until –”

 

“Until when?” Al asks softly.

 

Alicia’s eyebrows pull together. “You know, I’m not exactly sure. Sometime after we got off Strand’s boat. So in Mexico? I don’t know. I ditched it at some point. It wasn’t useful anymore.”

 

“But didn’t you have pictures or anything?”

 

“Of course,” Alicia says. She wrings her hands together, only stopping when Al intervenes and pulls her arm over to her lap. Alicia’s hand rests on Al’s knee, Al’s hand over hers, and Alicia lets out a small sigh. “They stopped mattering,” Alicia murmurs. “My family was with me basically all the time, so why keep a phone around to have pictures of them? And my boyfriend…” Alicia inhales sharply, “he was dead. My old life died with him. What good were pictures of us? What would they do except make me miss a life I couldn’t have anymore?”

 

“I guess you have a point.” Al pauses. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Alicia teases. “I’m a chick with layers.”

 

Al grins. “You stole that line from me.”

 

“I borrowed it.” Alicia lets her head fall on Al’s shoulder. “You know, I had a boyfriend at this ranch my family stayed at for a while.”

 

“Oh yeah? Didn’t work out?”

 

“He died, too.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Alicia inhales and twists her fingers through Al’s. “Every man in my life has died so far. Except Victor.” Alicia clears her throat. “People just keep dying.”

 

“What can I do?”

 

Alicia’s eyes close. “Stay alive.”

 

“I’m doing my best.”

 

“You ran off in the middle of the night by yourself. You can do better.”

 

“I will. For you.”

 

Alicia’s lip trembles, and a stray tear rolls down her cheek. “Don’t you die on me, too,” she whispers.

 

“Hey,” Al says gently, “I’m not going to.”

 

“Because if you die, I’ll have to take a page out of Victor’s book and try to drink myself to death. And if that doesn’t work –”

 

“Stop,” Al says firmly. She sets the camcorder on the cot beside her and wraps her arm around Alicia’s shoulders. “Nothing’s going to happen to me. Or Victor. Or Luciana or anyone.”

 

“I know you don’t really believe that,” Alicia says, voice breaking. “I’ve lost my entire family. Why wouldn’t I keep losing people?”

 

“Things will be different,” Al assures her.

 

“That’s easy for you to say,” Alicia mumbles.

 

“I know we don’t really talk about this stuff,” Al says, “but I’ve lost people, too.”

 

“You wanna swap sob stories now?”

 

“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know that. I’m saying, we’re gonna do the best we can to keep each other alive.”

 

“Sometimes our best isn’t good enough.”

 

Al inhales deeply. “I know,” she says.

 

“Do you still think about them?” Alicia whispers. “All the people you’ve lost.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“You’ve got them on film, don’t you?” Alicia asks. “The people you loved – the people you lost. They’re on the tapes you won’t show to anyone.”

 

Alicia listens to Al inhale, exhale, inhale again before she speaks. “Yeah,” Al says.

 

“You film me because you’re afraid I’m next.”

 

“No.”

 

Alicia’s fingers curl against Al’s knee, hold tight, in an attempt to stop her hand from visibly shaking. Al’s arm tightens around her shoulders, fingers gently stroke Alicia’s arm.

 

“You can admit it,” Alicia says. “I’m always afraid you’ll be next, too.”

 

“We can’t live like that. Afraid the other person’s always about to die.”

 

“Any day could be our last,” Alicia says. “And none of our friends know about us. At least, not for sure. Victor and June – why can’t we just tell them we’re…I don’t know, something? Something more than friends?”

 

“Something more than friends?” Al says, shaking her head. “That’s wonderfully vague.”

 

“I’m serious.”

 

“I film everything,” Al blurts. “I film people spilling their deepest secrets. I film people in the worst moments of their lives – and the best. I see everything. But most of the people I film know next to nothing about me. Except you. So is it so hard to believe that maybe I want to keep this to myself, too? June and John all but gave me their entire love story on film, but why should I give them mine? You know, and I know, and we are the only two people that need to know about us.”

 

“That makes no sense.”

 

“It does to me.”

 

“If you know and I know, then why film me at all? Why film _us_?”

 

“To add more tapes to my collection that no one else will ever lay eyes on,” Al says dryly. “At least not until after I’m dead.”

 

“What does telling our friends have to do with that?”

 

“You want them to look at us the way you look at John and June?” Al shoots. “John and June just look at each other and you practically gag.”

 

“That’s not true!”

 

“It is,” Al says. “You should see yourself.”

 

“That’s bullshit. Besides, they’re all in our faces about it –”

 

“And that’s what you’re saying you want,” Al points out. “You want to be open and let them all judge us and question your judgment when you make group decisions –”

 

“Those are totally separate things.”

 

“Are they? You voted not to fly when you found out I’d be the pilot, but you thought it was a decent idea _before_ the rest of the group thought I could fly the plane. You let your feelings for me influence your vote, and you know it. They’ll know it, too.” Al sighs. “I have reasons, Alicia.”

 

“Clearly. You just spelled them all out. Finally.” Alicia lifts her head, shrugs Al’s arm off her, and takes her hand back. “And that’s fine. That’s great. I get it, but I think you’re wrong.”

 

“Victor, Luciana, June – they all trust your leadership more than Morgan’s,” Al says as Alicia stands. “The moment you tie yourself to the dumbass journalist that crashed a plane and ran off on her own, they’re going to question your judgment.”

 

“And then we’ll also just be one more story cracked wide open for the world to see and analyze, right?” Alicia adds.

 

“That too.”

 

“I don’t care about that,” Alicia says. “And I don’t care if the group decides they don’t trust my leadership. Let Morgan lead us then.”

 

“Alicia –”

 

“I don’t care,” Alicia insists, “about any of that. But I’m tired of pretending like I don’t care about you. Give me that.”

 

“What? Hey!” Al protests. Alicia snatches up the camcorder and flips it open. The little red record light comes on, and she aims the camera at Al’s face. “What are you doing?” Al huffs. She doesn’t conceal her face with her hands, but she does let her hair fall into her eyes on the one side and doesn’t bother to brush it aside.

 

“I love you,” Alicia says. She watches Al’s expression soften through the small camcorder screen, watches Al for once be at a loss for words. “And I don’t care if anyone knows, even if it messes up my ability to lead or if it becomes just one more story you’ve laid open to the world. I don’t care.”

 

Alicia snaps the camcorder shut and sets it back on the cot next to Al.

 

“Goodnight,” Alicia says. She shakes June awake, a little more violently than necessary, and says, “Your watch,” before settling onto her own cot, back turned to Al. June yawns and disentangles herself from John, looking over at Alicia and Al.

 

“What’s wrong?” June asks. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

 

“I – nothing,” Al says. “Just tired.”

 

“Go to sleep then,” June says. “John, wake up. It’s our watch.”

 

“Already?” John grumbles.

 

June snatches his hat from over his face and drops it beneath her cot. “Yes. Already.”

 

Alicia listens to Al get comfortable behind her, though she doesn’t dare turn to look at her. Alicia’s heart pounds in her chest, and even though she woke June up to take over, she spends at least an hour with her eyes closed, pretending like she’s asleep.

 

Then she opens her eyes, and she’s not in the truck stop anymore. She’s with her whole group, scattered throughout that store. She’s on the floor, lying between Charlie and Luciana. No one has the energy to get up; Alicia ran out of energy long ago. Al’s in the corner, filming her goodbye, and Alicia thinks, not for the first time, that taking the sharp end of her gun barrel to the head would be a better death than death by antifreeze poisoning.

 

Al shuts the camera off and collapses to the floor. Alicia’s heart drops, even though some deeper part of her is aware that she’s in a dream. It’s a realistic dream, though. It’s like she’s watching one of Al’s tapes.

 

“Al,” Alicia manages to call out. She crawls over, and even though she’s surrounded with her people – Strand, Luciana, Charlie, June, John, Sarah, and Wendell – no one seems to notice that Al’s not moving except for Alicia. She crawls over and grasps onto Al’s bicep, giving her a gentle shake. “Hey. Stay up. Morgan will be back soon. He’ll figure out a way.”

 

Alicia knows she’s lying. Morgan’s probably too far away to reach them, and even if he does make it back, what’s he going to do about their poisoning problem? Alicia shakes Al’s arm again and leans in closer just as Al turns her head to look at her. Alicia swallows hard. Something feels off long before Alicia has visual confirmation.

 

It’s the eyes that give it away.

 

Alicia can’t get away in time, but before she can scream, everything disappears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading! Feel free to leave me your thoughts, and I'll get back to you as soon as I can! I'm not sure how soon I'll be able to get another chapter up. I'm juggling summer classes and my job, and I'm kind of interested in waiting to see what the show's going to do next, but I'll do my best.


	6. 6

It’d be creepy to film Alicia sleeping. Way too creepy. So Al watches her instead. She really doesn’t have anything better to do. She’s on watch with Morgan, not that she got much sleep before her turn came back around anyway. Not after Alicia hit her with the L-bomb then promptly went to sleep and left Al awake with June and John.

 

Alicia’s asleep on her back, which worries Al, because Alicia always has more nightmares when she’s on her back. She seems fine now, but Al can’t bring herself to look away from Alicia’s face. Her face is relaxed, lips parted slightly. She breathes steadily through her nose. Al knows Alicia is young by most standards. Mid-twenties. Honestly, Al thought Alicia was pushing thirty when they met. There’s no place for youth in this world, but Alicia looks young in her sleep. In her sleep, Al can believe Alicia’s only in her mid-twenties.

 

“You still up?” Morgan grunts from behind Al.

 

“Yeah,” Al replies. “You?”

 

Morgan chuckles. “No, I’m asleep.”

 

“I knew it, man,” Al mumbles.

 

“Don’t fall asleep on me now.”

 

Al’s eyes pop back open. “I’m trying,” Al says. She rubs at her face and shifts onto her back, hoping the ache in her lower back will keep her awake.

 

“We could talk,” Morgan suggests.

 

“Since when have we ever talked, Mo-Mo?” Al quips.

 

“Don’t you start with that nickname, too.”

 

“Right, sorry,” Al laughs. “Is it really fucking hot in here all the sudden or is it just me?”

 

“It’s warm,” Morgan says.

 

Al sits up and mutters something about the generator overheating while she unbuttons her gray shirt. She fights her way out of it, leaving her in an olive green tank top. She bundles up the button down and tosses it beneath her cot, flopping back down and raising her arms above her head. She instantly feels better, cooler, even though sweat beads on her forehead.

 

“Strand’s not coming, is he?” Al finally asks.

 

“I’m sorry?” Morgan says.

 

“You’ve been talking to Strand on the radio,” Al murmurs. She keeps her eyes set on the ceiling, though she can see Morgan out of the corner of her eye. “If he could get us, he would have already. We’re stuck here until we find our own way out, aren’t we?”

 

Morgan stays silent for at least two minutes. Al knows because she starts counting the seconds until Morgan speaks.

 

“Strand is working on it,” Morgan says.

 

“The generator will run out of fuel eventually,” Al says. “Even though we’re only running it occasionally. We’ll run out of food, even though I brought back the truck with our shit.  You’re welcome. I bought us a few more days. We don’t have enough gas in the truck to make it all the way back. Luciana’s in no shape to walk back, and if we’re ambushed, we’re fucked. But none of that explains Strand’s inability to get to us.”

 

“He’s on the other side of the mountain,” Morgan reminds. “He doesn’t have a plane, and the van isn’t mobile enough to reach us. The factory has been taken by Logan –”

 

Al bolts upright. “What if I could get him a plane?” she questions.

 

“What?”

 

“I met a guy awhile back. Well stocked. Mentioned something about a small plane.”

 

Morgan and Al stare at each other. “I wish you would’ve said something sooner,” Morgan says.

 

“I wish you would’ve,” Al counters. “Now that I know for sure that Strand’s not really on his way yet.”

 

“I’ll contact him first thing in the morning,” Morgan says. “Do you know anything about the guy with the plane?”

 

“I can do you one better. I have his tape. Tell Strand it’s under _Sal_.”

 

“I will,” Morgan promises. “You might’ve just saved our asses.”

 

“Just another day in the life,” Al says with a grin. She pushes her hand through her sweat-dampened hair, slicking it back, then lowers herself back down to the cot. Her lower back isn’t thrilled about being laid on once again. Al barely feels the pain, but she’s definitely awake now. Sunrise is still a couple hours off, and Alicia and June will be on watch together thirty minutes from now. But now, Al thinks she’ll hold off on waking June so she can stay up with Alicia to watch the sunrise.

 

“You know,” Morgan says, prompting Al to turn her head to the side to face him, “Alicia wanted to leave to find you the moment she discovered you were gone.”

 

“I kind of figured she would,” Al admits. “She’s…like that.”

 

“She cares,” Morgan says. “She cares a lot, even after everything that’s happened to her.”

 

“She’s strong,” Al agrees. “I’m sorry, but is this going somewhere?”

 

Morgan gives a shrug and shakes his head. “Not really.”

 

Al’s eyes narrow. “You’re lying,” she guesses. “If you’ve got something to say, Morgan, you should spit it out. I’m a big girl, you know. I can handle it.”

 

“She’s strong,” Morgan says. “Your words. But she’s not strong. She’s fragile. She’s always close to the edge – close to shattering, if something sets it off. I saw it at the wreckage, when she was killing the dead at the expense of her own hands. She would’ve cut them to the bone to keep the dead away from us. That isn’t strength.”

 

“Be careful,” Al warns, half-jokingly. “Or you’ll start to sound like that crazy bitch. Martha? All about being strong or weak.”

 

“What I’m trying to get at,” Morgan says. He cuts himself off and restarts. “Alicia can only let herself be strong, especially in front of and for us. She needs a friend.”

 

“She has friends,” Al says. “The way all of us have friends, I suppose. She has Luciana and Strand.”

 

“And you.”

 

Al hesitates. “And me,” she says.

 

“I’m still concerned about Strand trying to drink himself to death,” Morgan says. “And Luciana lost the love of her life, who happened to be Alicia’s brother. Strand and Luciana could as easily hurt Alicia as they could help her as friends.”

 

“Morgan, it’s late,” Al says. “You’re talking out of your ass now, buddy.”

 

“I’m saying I’m worried about Alicia,” Morgan clarifies. “And I’m worried about you, too.”

 

Al scoffs. “Why? I’m fine.”

 

“Yeah, you’re always fine, Al. That’s why you ran back to the site of the wreckage to film it. I can’t help but wonder, if you hadn’t crashed the plane…would you have felt the need to go back to film it? To risk your life for _footage_ if you hadn’t personally crashed the plane?”

 

“Don’t psychoanalyze me, Mo-Mo,” Al says. “Or I’m going to permanently adopt Sarah’s little pet name for you.”

 

Morgan smiles tiredly. “Then I’ll just have to think of an embarrassing nickname for you.”

 

“Good luck,” Al snorts. Alicia grunts in her sleep, drawing Al’s eyes to her. Alicia shifts around but doesn’t roll off her back.

 

“The crash wasn’t your fault,” Morgan says quietly. “We pushed you into flying. We all knew you weren’t qualified.”

 

“I could’ve said no,” Al points out. “I could’ve disagreed, but I ran headfirst into something I knew I wasn’t capable of.” Al shakes her head against the cot and pushes both hands into her hair, holding them there. “Alicia knew,” Al says. “She tried to talk me out of it before we left. She knew I couldn’t do it.”

 

“Alicia was cautious,” Morgan says, “which is awfully funny. She hasn’t been cautious about much else as long as I’ve known her.”

 

Al suppresses a laugh. “She was cautious because it was me,” Al says.

 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Morgan admits.

 

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Al says. Morgan wants to say something else, or ask a question, but Alicia’s restlessness kicks up a notch, and Al knows what that means. Morgan knows it, too, and whatever he has to say is going to have to wait. “I got it,” Al tells him.

 

“You sure?”

 

“I think she’d rather see me than you. No offense.”

 

“No, I think you’re right,” Morgan says. “I don’t think Alicia has much faith in me lately.”

 

“Yeah, me either,” Al mutters. She swings her legs off the cot and stands, accidentally irritating her back in the process. She groans and reaches back, like she’s seventy years old or something, then lowers her hand at that thought and leans over to grasp onto Alicia’s shoulder. “Hey, Leesh. Hey, uh, wake up. Alicia.”

 

Alicia awakens with a sudden gasp and immediately latches onto Al’s arm, startling the hell out of Al. Alicia’s got a lot of strength for a woman who just woke up, and she nearly yanks Al straight down on top of her.

 

“Hey, calm down,” Al says gently. “Please don’t rip my arm out of its socket. I need that arm.” Alicia whispers something, and Al squints as she tries to understand what her right ear just heard. “I’m sorry, my hearing’s still fucked. You’re gonna have to –”

 

Alicia yanks on her arm again, harder, and Al can’t stop the yelp of surprise that leaves her mouth when she’s pulled off balance, barely catching herself on Alicia’s cot.

 

“Al!” Morgan exclaims, getting to his feet, but Al holds her hand out to stop him.

 

“I’m okay,” Al assures him. Both her knees are planted on the cot, straddling Alicia. It was the only way Al could catch herself, to be fair, and now Alicia clings to her, one arm around Al’s neck, the other around her waist, holding tightly. Alicia’s in a weird half-sitting position, face buried against Al’s neck. Al looks over at Morgan, wearing the same dumbfounded expression she’s been wearing since Alicia pulled on her hard enough to dislocate Al’s shoulder if she tried. Morgan shakes his head, unsure of what to say – unsure of what to make of the sight in front of him.

 

“You’re alive,” Alicia breathes against Al’s neck. Al feels it more than she hears it, but she nods. She manages to get them into a more seated position, but Alicia refuses to let go, even with Morgan as a witness.

 

“Um. Yeah,” Al says. She glances at Morgan once more and tentatively wraps her arms around Alicia’s upper back. “Yeah. Of course I am.”

 

Alicia stiffens and seems to realize what’s happening. She pushes Al back, swipes at her eyes with the backs of her bandaged hands, and mutters, “I need air.”

 

“It’s dark outside,” Al protests. “You can’t go –”

 

The door slams behind Alicia. Al looks to Morgan.

 

“Out there unarmed,” she finishes flatly. She scoops the gun barrel out from under Alicia’s cot then grabs her button down from beneath her own, just in case it’s chilly. Al slings the shirt over her shoulder then grumbles, “I’ll go after her.”

 

“Be careful,” Morgan warns. “Your hearing –”

 

“Is shit. Thanks for the reminder. Alicia can hear just fine.”

 

“Al.”

 

Al stops at the door and turns back, eyebrows raised. “Mo-Mo.”

 

“Be careful.”

 

“We’ll be five feet from the door,” she says. “You’ll know if we need a hand.”

 

Al pulls the door shut behind her and spots Alicia sitting more than five feet from the door, but Morgan doesn’t need to know that Al’s estimate was off. The truck’s really only twenty feet away or so. Alicia sits on the pavement, knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs. Al glances around, but no movement catches her eye, and she doesn’t hear anything out of the ordinary with her right ear. Al approaches slowly, but she knows Alicia is just pretending like she isn’t there.

 

“You want me to get Morgan?” Al questions. She winces as she lowers herself to the pavement, trying her best to ignore the ache in her back. “I know he’d _love_ to come out here and lecture you about resilience in the face of hardship or something.”

 

Alicia doesn’t smile. Doesn’t roll her eyes. Doesn’t even acknowledge that Al has spoken. Al props the gun barrel against the truck beside her and stretches her legs out in front of her. She clasps her hands together in her lap, exhales, and waits to see if Alicia’s going to speak. If not, that’s fine. Al’s good at filling silences with words.

 

“C’mon,” Al says. She knocks her loose fist against the side of Alicia’s knee. “Talk to me. Anything – say _anything_.”

 

“You filled the van with antifreeze before we were all poisoned with it,” Alicia murmurs.

 

“Huh?”

 

“It’s not safe for me to talk much louder.”

 

“I heard you,” Al dismisses. “You’re facing my good ear. What are you talking about?”

 

“When we were all poisoned by Martha,” Alicia says simply. Her fingers tap against her legs incessantly. “Before we realized it. You poured antifreeze into the van, and then we were poisoned with it. Isn’t that funny?”

 

Al inhales sharply. “No, actually. I don’t think it’s very funny at all.”

 

“Funny in an ironic way,” Alicia says.

 

Al lets her head fall back against the truck. She considers putting her shirt on over her tank top. It’s a little colder than what’s comfortable, but it’s not an unbearable cold. Al rubs at her eyes with her index finger and thumb then asks, “Why are you thinking about our brush with death-by-antifreeze?”

 

“I dreamt it.”

 

“No, it happ – oh,” Al says. “You dreamt about it.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Al doesn’t know how to proceed. They don’t talk about what Alicia dreams. Every time Al tries, she gets shut down. Every time Al offers up her own dreams for consolation, Alicia snaps at her about not getting it. Whatever _it_ means.

 

“Do – do you want to tell me about it?” Al asks carefully. She doesn’t let herself look at Alicia straight on, just in case it scares her out of talking. Al sneaks glances then stares ahead of them, constantly checking for signs of the dead.

 

“No,” Alicia says. Not a surprise. Al doesn’t even argue with her. She’s about to verbalize her acceptance of Alicia emotionally shutting down once again, but Alicia blurts, “If you were bitten, would you want me to wait until you died to kill you?”

 

“What?” Al exclaims. She sits up, away from the truck, and turns her upper body to face Alicia, even though it strains her back. “Why in the fuck would you ask me that?”

 

“I need to know. If I’m bitten, I don’t want you to wait. I want you to do it right away.”

 

“You’re – that’s insane,” Al says. “I’m not – we’re not going to – that isn’t –”

 

“Stop stuttering and let me talk,” Alicia says calmly. “We should decide now so we wouldn’t have to decide in the moment. And I mean it. I don’t want you to wait. I want you to do it right away. Don’t let me be one of those things. Don’t let me be a shell of my former self. Don’t let me hurt someone else.”

 

“Alicia, that won’t happen.”

 

“You can’t promise me that. Don’t make a promise you know you can’t keep.” Alicia’s eyes shut momentarily as she inhales deeply. “Please. Just tell me what to do if it happens to you. Tell me what you want.”

 

“Alicia –”

 

“I just –” Alicia’s voice breaks, and she clears her throat to cover it up, “I just need to know what to do if the worst happens, and then maybe I can get some – some fucking peace.”

 

Al falters. Her jaw hangs open for a few moments as she thinks, then she asks, “What would be easier for you?”

 

“What?”

 

“Would it be easier to wait until I die from the infection, or would it be easier to do it before I’m dead?”

 

Alicia, for the first time since they went outside, turns her head to the side and meets Al’s gaze. “Are you saying you would wait to die from the infection if it’d be easier for me to – to take care of it?”

 

Al pauses. “Yeah, I guess that _is_ what I’m saying.”

 

“You’ve seen what it’s like,” Alicia whispers. “You’ve seen what it does to you before – before it kills you. It destroys your body.”

 

“I want you to decide for me,” Al declares. “You do whatever’s going to help you move past my currently hypothetical death by infection.”

 

“Are you telling me to – to move on if you die? To keep living?”

 

“Obviously,” Al says. “We aren’t _Romeo and Juliet_. Don’t kill yourself to be with me or whatever. It’s been a long time since I read that, so I don’t really remember what happened, but they both kill themselves, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay, well, I answered your question,” Al says, “so it’s only fair that you answer mine.”

 

Alicia’s jaw clenches then unclenches. Her eyes lower from Al’s face down to her neck or maybe chest area. “Fine,” Alicia agrees.

 

“Why’d you ask me that?”

 

“Because I need to know.”

 

“No. What prompted the question?”

 

Alicia releases her hold on her legs and lets them slowly lower to the pavement. Her bandaged hands press flat against her thighs. She flexes her fingers then says, “I dreamt we were back at that store. Truck stop. Whatever it was. I dreamt we were all dying of antifreeze poisoning, except this time…you actually died. And you know when people die. They get back up. And I – I didn’t do anything. In the dream. I just,” Alicia smiles and shakes her head, “I just died, too.”

 

“Okay, wait,” Al says. “You need to promise me something.”

 

“What?”

 

“Promise if, God forbid, I get bitten, if you wait until after the infection kills me to take care of it – promise me you’ll actually take care of it and not let me…you know.”

 

Alicia blinks. “I promise,” she says. “Now you promise you’ll kill me before the infection does.”

 

Al opens her mouth to protest but stops herself. “Fine. I promise,” she says.

 

“Then it’s a deal,” Alicia says. “Should we shake hands?”

 

“Fuck off,” Al shoots. “This isn’t a joke.”

 

“I know.”

 

“It’s not funny.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I’m not laughing.”

 

“Al, I said _I know_.”

 

Al studies Alicia’s face, but it’s void of any sort of emotion. Alicia pulls her knees back up toward her chest, and Al doesn’t miss the way Alicia’s body shakes. No, it’s not shaking. Shivering. Alicia’s T-shirt offers little more protection from the cool air than Al’s tank top does.

 

Al doesn’t miss the still-distant but nearing sound of a low growl, the shuffle of long worn out shoes on pavement.

 

“Al,” Alicia says.

 

“I hear it,” Al assures her. “I’ll get it.”

 

The dead rounds the corner of the truck stop and lays its sunken eyes on Al and Alicia. Its arm extends, swiping at the air as it limps along. The thing’s walking on a broken foot, bent at a ninety degree angle, so it’s really walking on the side of its foot. Disgusting. Like Al needs more reminders that nothing stops these things from chasing after them. Al pushes herself up to her feet, grimacing. Al pulls the gray button down off her shoulder and shakes it out. Al gingerly drapes the open shirt over Alicia’s shoulders then grabs the gun barrel from its spot against the truck.

 

Honestly, Al hates this thing. Hates killing with this thing. The weight’s all wrong in her hands. Al whistles nonchalantly on her stroll up to the dead. Her eyes drop to its jacked up foot, and she wonders if it only started walking on its foot like that after it reanimated or if it was like that before the guy died. Either way, it’s fucking nasty. She thrusts the sharp end of the barrel up through the bottom of the dead thing’s jaw and yanks it free the moment before it falls to the pavement, actually dead this time.

 

Al walks back to Alicia, now whistling _Don’t Worry, Be Happy_ , and she doesn’t stop to dwell on her song choice. Alicia sends her a funny look, but Al stops whistling and sends it right back, because Alicia’s full on wearing her shirt now. Her arms are through it, the buttons are buttoned – all except the top two – and the sleeves are rolled back so they don’t hang past Alicia’s wrists.

 

“Don’t you dare get anything gross on my shirt,” Al warns. She sets the barrel against the truck again and lowers herself back to the ground. God, this must be what being old is like. Al’s not sure she’s going to be able to get back up. “I like that shirt,” Al adds once she’s finally seated again. “So don’t go and soak it with the blood of the dead. You know blood doesn’t come out of shit.”

 

“You’re hurt,” Alicia says.

 

“Please acknowledge what I said about my shirt.”

 

Alicia’s eyes roll. “I heard it.”

 

“I’ve been through a lot with that shirt, okay?”

 

“You’re hurt,” Alicia repeats.

 

“I’m fine,” Al dismisses. “I’m not the one who fled the building.”

 

“Your back,” Alicia says.

 

“My back is sore. It’s not the end of the world.”

 

“Can you just let me be concerned about you?”

 

“It’s wasted concern, because I’m fine,” Al says. She pats Alicia’s knee. “Don’t worry about me.”

 

“Don’t give me reasons to worry.”

 

“You’re gonna worry no matter what I do or don’t do,” Al says. “You just have to trust that I can take care of myself.”

 

“My mom could take care of herself, too. So could Nick. There’s no secret to survival. It’s all just…random chance. Like playing Russian roulette, except four of the six chambers are filled with bullets instead of one.”

 

“You and your metaphors,” Al mutters. She scratches at the back of her head and stares out at the gradually lightening sky. “You up for spending the rest of the night out here?” Al questions.

 

“I don’t feel like getting up.”

 

“Good,” Al says. “I don’t, either.”

 

“What did you do with that goodbye you filmed?” Alicia asks.

 

“Huh?”

 

“When we were poisoned.”

 

This again. Al sighs. Honestly, she doesn’t remember filming a goodbye. Then again, half of that day is a blur. Especially the half she spent poisoned.

 

“I don’t know,” Al finally says. “I don’t even remember that.”

 

“Surely it’s on a tape somewhere.”

 

“Yeah. The tape from that day, probably. I haven’t watched it.”

 

“You watched something,” Alicia says. She fiddles with one of her sleeves. “Another tape. What was it?”

 

Al’s blood runs cold, but she carefully controls her expression, especially once she feels Alicia’s inquisitive stare on her face. She could try lying. Hope Alicia doesn’t catch her. She could deny remembering that, too. Maybe Alicia will even accept that as an answer.

 

“Well, it was a tape,” Al jokes weakly.

 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Alicia says quickly. “Sorry, I know I’m prying, and we don’t pry –”

 

“It was just, you know, people I knew,” Al says.

 

“People that mattered?” Alicia guesses.

 

“Yeah. Do you blame me? I was dying.”

 

“They’re all dead,” Alicia murmurs. “Aren’t they?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Everyone you loved is dead,” Alicia says.

 

“Yeah,” Al says. “And everyone _you_ loved is dead, too. We’re on the same sinking ship, baby.”

 

“I see them, too,” Alicia says. “You see your loved ones on tape, and I see my loved ones, too. Just not on a tape.”

 

“And not on your phone, I’m guessing. Since you ditched it in Mexico.”

 

A smile flickers on Alicia’s face. “Not on my phone,” she agrees. “In my dreams.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Alicia shrugs. Her eyes shift over to the front of the truck stop, toward the door or the windows or something, then they return to Al’s face. She reaches up and strokes the back of her fingers down Al’s cheek, along her jaw, and Al lets her eyes close.

 

“You aren’t wearing a bra.”

 

Al’s eyes pop open, but she relaxes when she sees Alicia’s grin. Al glances down at herself then grumbles, “Why should I? The fucking world’s over. And you’re starting to give me mood whiplash, Clark.”

 

Al catches Alicia’s wrist in her hand and presses Alicia’s fingers to her lips. Al brings Alicia’s hand to the center of her chest and holds it there with both of her own. Al absently fidgets with Alicia’s fingers and stares out at the sky as Alicia's eyes search her face.

 

“What’re you thinking about?” Alicia asks.

 

“My tapes.”

 

“You wanna talk about it?”

 

Al clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “No.”

 

“The tapes… you keep them because you have to hang onto the past.”

 

“We’re not going to talk about hanging onto the past,” Al replies.

 

“I’m just saying – because you watch the tapes of – of people you loved – I’m just wondering –”

 

“Stop stuttering,” Al teases gently.

 

“How do I fit into…?” Alicia trails off when she sees Al smile.

 

“You have nothing to worry about,” Al tells her. “The dead are gone. The past is over. I know you think I can’t let go of the past – and maybe part of me can’t – but I’m still able to look forward.”

 

“And when you look forward,” Alicia says, “what do you see?”

 

Al smirks. “You’re an idiot.”

 

“Answer the question.”

 

“You,” Al says without hesitation.

 

“No matter what?”

 

“No matter what,” Al promises. She kisses Alicia’s fingers again then returns her hand to her lap. “Sun’s up,” she says, pressing her fingers to Alicia’s shoulder as she stands. “We should head in. I gotta remind Morgan to tell Strand something.”

 

“Wait,” Alicia says. She snags Al’s wrist and stops her from walking away. Al turns back, eyebrows raised. “I meant what I said last night,” Alicia says.

 

Al smiles then tips her head forward in a nod. “I know.” She offers Alicia a hand then hauls her up to her feet. They both stare at each other for a long moment. Al mentally beats herself up for not saying what Alicia wants to hear, but the words die in her throat. She’s not really good at this sort of thing.

 

“Let’s go,” Alicia finally says. She takes the gun barrel and follows Al back to the truck stop. Alicia grabs the door handle but hesitates. “Thanks for sitting with me.”

 

“Don’t thank me,” Al says. “I did it because I wanted to.”

 

Alicia pulls the door open and ushers Al inside. “Go see June about your back,” Alicia says. “Get yourself some pills.”

 

“I don’t need pills,” Al retorts. “Mo-Mo! It’s morning. Time to tell Strand about that tape.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I noticed in a rewatch of 4x16 that Al was pouring antifreeze into the SWAT van before the group was poisoned with antifreeze and threw that in there as something Alicia observed. 
> 
> This might be the last new chapter until after the next episode on June 16th, but don't listen to me, I don't really know lol. Also I think this is my favorite chapter so far. It's either this one or Chapter 4. I just love Al and hope she'll be in this week's episode because I need more content.
> 
> As always, let me know what you think and thanks for reading!


	7. 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was wrong about putting the next chapter up after the next episode! I just can't seem to help myself so here it is.

No one says anything about Alicia wearing Al’s shirt, much to Alicia’s chagrin. Alicia curls up on her cot, enveloped in Al’s scent, as Al sits on her own cot and plays with the camcorder. Morgan gets up pretty much the second Al wakes him up, and Alicia listens to him shuffle over to the radio room to try to contact Strand. Al didn’t bother to explain what she meant by telling Strand about “that tape.” Morgan understands what she means – but he’s the only one, besides Al.

 

June checks on Luciana and hands her another dose of pain pills. Alicia looks to Al expectantly, but Al’s eyes are fixated on the camcorder.

 

“Oh no,” John jokes. “Not another camera.”

 

Al turns the camera on him. “Say hi,” she says. “This one films in HD.”

 

John makes a face. “Wonderful,” he mutters, rubbing at the stubble on his jaw. “I’m glad I said something.”

 

“You’ll be preserved in HD until this camera dies forever,” Al says. She snaps the camera shut and sets it beneath her cot. Alicia rolls onto her back and stretches, listening to Morgan’s muffled voice coming from the radio room. She can’t tell if he’s made contact with Strand or not. Alicia glances over at Al, happens to catch her wince.

 

“June,” Alicia calls. “When you’re done with Luci, do you think you can take a look at Al’s back?”

 

“My back is fine,” Al says immediately.

 

“If there’s a problem, you should let me look at it,” June says.

 

“I’m fine,” Al insists. She shoots Alicia a glare as June makes her way over.

 

“Come on,” June says, putting her hands on her hips. “Don’t be difficult.”

 

Al turns so her back faces June and slowly rolls the back of her tank top up. Alicia watches June’s face, but she doesn’t visibly react. June crouches down to get a closer look at the bruising spread across Al’s lower back.

 

“It’s clearly bothering you,” June says.

 

“But there’s nothing you can do about it,” Al adds.

 

“If it hurts, we’ve got plenty of pills.”

 

“I’m not going to be high while we’re stuck at a truck stop in the middle of nowhere,” Al retorts. She hisses in pain as June prods at the bruising, arching away from June’s hand.

 

“I won’t give you the good stuff,” June replies. “Just some ibuprofen.”

 

“Fine,” Al agrees. She yanks her tank top down. “Give me the ibuprofen then.”

 

“I’m going to keep an eye on that bruising,” June says. “It’s pretty bad.”

 

“For a bruise,” Al says.

 

“Yes, for a bruise,” June agrees. “But it should heal alongside your ear.”

 

“What?” Al shouts, purposefully. “I can’t hear you! Speak toward my good ear!”

 

“Now you’re just being an ass,” June says, fighting back a smile. She drops two ibuprofen pills into Al’s palm. “Take those.”

 

“Could she have gotten that bruising from falling down a hill?” Alicia asks.

 

“In theory,” June says. She watches as Al swallows the pills. “She might’ve hit some debris on the way down. And she mentioned not being able to recall what happened.”

 

“I’m right here,” Al points out. “I know my hearing’s shot in one ear, but I can still hear almost everything you’re saying.”

 

“I’m right, aren’t I?” June questions. “First you hit your head in the crash, then you fell down a rather big hill, possibly with that dead guy we found with you. If you scuffled with him before the fall, your injuries might not even be related to falling down a hill.”

 

“Trust me, I’ve been trying to remember,” Al says.

 

“You might not,” June says. “You’re just lucky your injuries aren’t too bad.”

 

“Yeah,” Luciana pipes up. “They’re nothing compared to mine.”

 

Alicia’s eyes lock with Al’s, but she can’t read whatever’s on Al’s face. So Alicia rolls over and tries to catch up on some of the sleep she missed out on. Normally the nightmares aren’t as bad during the day. Alicia closes her eyes and dozes, but she’s unable to completely pass out. John and Luciana start up a card game that should be a quiet affair but results in both of them yelling and throwing cards at each other.

 

“Not fair!” Luciana protests. “You can throw with two hands, and I only have one!”

 

“Heal faster,” John says.

 

“You’re just a sore loser!”

 

“Guys,” Al cuts in. “Alicia’s trying to sleep. She had a late night.”

 

“We all have late nights,” Luciana says.

 

“No, she’s right,” John says. “I’m sorry for throwing cards.”

 

“I’m sorry I had to hand your sorry ass to you in that game.”

 

John and Luciana laugh together, and Alicia decides to stay up. “Don’t let me ruin your fun,” Alicia says. She heads for the bathroom, figuring it’s time for the bandages to come off for good. Her hands are as healed as they’re gonna get. Alicia all but tears the first bandage free and forcefully throws it into the trash bin. She just gets the second one off when she hears soft footsteps in the hall.

 

“Go away,” Alicia says over her shoulder.

 

“We watched the sunrise together,” Al replies, appearing in the doorway. “I’m not going away.”

 

“Why are you here?”

 

“Because I’m trapped in this place. Same as you,” Al says.

 

“How’s your back?”

 

“Ibuprofen works miracles, apparently,” Al answers. “I don’t feel a thing.”

 

“Liar.”

 

“No, seriously. I think it’s because I haven’t popped any sort of pain medication since…I don’t even know when.” Al pauses. Her eyes start at Alicia’s, flick down to her hands, to the scars in her palms. When Alicia notices the staring, she curls her hands into fists. “Look,” Al says gently. “Being stuck in a small space is driving us all crazy. John and Luci are _still_ arguing over that stupid card game. Morgan has been trying to call Strand nonstop for twenty minutes now. And thanks to you, now June’s going to be up my ass about all my business probably for the next six months. But you and I – we need to hold it together. We’ll find a way back.”

 

“Back where?” Alicia snaps. “The denim factory belongs to Logan now.”

 

“We’ll figure that out, too,” Al says. She places her hands on Alicia’s shoulders, squeezes reassuringly even as Alicia rolls her eyes. “One thing at a time,” Al reminds. “We’ve got to get to the factory before we can take it back.”

 

“I hate just sitting here,” Alicia says.

 

Al strokes her thumb down Alicia’s cheek and says, “I know. I do too. But you know Luci’s in no shape to move without reliable transportation. And we’re relatively safe here.”

 

“We were safer in the denim factory,” Alicia says. She leans in to rest her head against Al’s shoulder and brings one arm up around Al’s neck, but she keeps her other arm down at her side. Alicia isn’t willing to risk causing Al more pain than she’s already in. Ibuprofen does not work miracles, despite what Al says. Al’s arms encircle Alicia, and Alicia lets herself relax. “This whole helping people thing that we’re doing,” Alicia murmurs. “It’s not working. No one wants our help, and the people that do either die before we get there or – or they trick us into leaving our home and steal it from us. And I think I’m the only one who really understands how pointless this is.”

 

“It’s not –”

 

“Don’t say it’s not pointless,” Alicia interrupts. “Just – please tell me you at least understand my frustration.”

 

“I understand,” Al says. “But it’s not pointless.”

 

“We could have a life,” Alicia says. “The way my mom wanted. We could live full lives in this shit world in that factory, and if more people come along to join us, then great. But now, we don’t even have that, because we had to go seek out these people ourselves. We crashed a plane, hurt ourselves, lost our _home_ , and it was all for nothing.”

 

“It’s not for _nothing_.”

 

“You’re right,” Alicia snorts. “If there’s a higher power, then when we die, it can look at us and say _well, at least you tried to help even though you failed miserably and got yourself killed in the process_. I don’t know how Morgan stays so positive about this. We haven’t done shit.”

 

“Well,” Al muses, “I crashed a plane. Not many people can say they’ve done that.”

 

“God, you and that plane.”

 

“For a while there, I was flying,” Al points out. “The landing needs improvement, but I bet if I was given another shot –”

 

“Never again,” Alicia says. “Never. We are _never_ getting into another plane.”

 

“Not even if Strand flies one over the mountain to pick us up?”

 

Alicia pulls back, bracing her hands against Al’s shoulders. “Wait,” Alicia says. “That better not be what you told Morgan to tell him. _Please_ tell me you didn’t.”

 

“Didn’t what? Suggest Strand find a man that I know has a plane and use it to bring us back? Of course I told Morgan to tell him that.”

 

“Strand can’t fly any more than you can!” Alicia bursts.

 

“Actually, he’s much more qualified than I am,” Al says. “I was always more familiar with helicopters anyway.”

 

“Strand –”

 

“Has flown a plane before,” Al finishes. “Once. He told me. He showed me a few tricks that the manual couldn’t teach me.”

 

“So then why the hell did you fly us out here?” Alicia questions.

 

“We weren’t supposed to lose an engine, for one thing,” Al says. “Strand didn’t teach me how to deal with engine failure, so, you know, we fell out of the sky. And Strand is our contingency plan. I couldn’t be the one back at the factory right now, keeping everything together while Logan’s being a shithead. Strand’s a leader. And he thought I was ready.”

 

“You knew you weren’t.”

 

Al shrugs. “Yeah. Well. Nothing we can do about it now.”

 

“I can’t wait here anymore,” Alicia says. “We can split up. You, me, and Morgan can head back to the factory, assess the situation, and return for Luciana, John, and June with backup.”

 

“That’s insane,” Al says.

 

“No, it’s not,” Alicia insists. “It’s a good solution to all of us sitting on our asses and waiting to be rescued. Let’s rescue our damn selves!”

 

Al shakes her head. “If anything happened to Luci, John, and June while we were out –”

 

“Morgan could stay back,” Alicia suggests. “You and I could –”

 

“My back hurts, and I can’t hear on my left side still,” Al says gently. “I’m not in the best position to hike back to the factory. I can’t fight for an extended period of time. And I know you would refuse to leave me behind.”

 

Alicia sighs. “There’s got to be another way.”

 

“Give Strand a chance,” Al says.

 

“What happens when we run out of supplies?” Alicia asks. “We’ll all have to head out anyway.”

 

“But that won’t be for at least a week, maybe two,” Al says. “Luciana will be in much better shape, and so will I. It’d be different if we were all at our usual strength, but we’re all beat up somehow.”

 

“I’m fine. Morgan’s fine. June and John are fine.”

 

“Your hands,” Al says. “Morgan’s been limping. June’s still getting headaches from the damage the crash did. You might be right about John, that lucky son of a bitch. Face it, Alicia. We need to recover.”

 

“We need to _act_.”

 

“You need to sleep,” Al says. “You look absolutely exhausted.”

 

“I can’t sleep,” Alicia mumbles. “My mind won’t shut down, and when it does –”

 

“I know.”

 

“I can’t stay in here,” Alicia says. “Not today. I need to be outside.”

 

“We’ll go outside then,” Al says. “Take a short walk. Breathe the fresh scent of pine and decomposition in the morning. I can film some things, since I don’t have the footage of the crash site anymore.”

 

“That’s a start,” Alicia says. “But another day of that –” She points in the general direction of the rest of their group, “– and I’ll have to blow my brains out. I can’t take being holed up in here anymore. There’s no such thing as privacy.”

 

“So let’s go for a walk,” Al decides. “I’m gonna find a new shirt from the truck, though, since you stole mine.”

 

“You gave it to me.”

 

“To use while we were outside,” Al says. “And now you still have it on your body, so I need a new one. Preferably with buttons. So let me check the truck while you tell Morgan what we’re doing. Oh, and grab me a weapon. I lost my knife in the woods.”

 

“I’ll meet you outside,” Alicia agrees. She heads to the radio room and plucks a walkie off the table. “Al and I are going for a short walk,” she tells Morgan. “Yes, we’ll be careful. Yes, we’re armed and we have this walkie in case something happens. No, we won’t go too far.”

 

“Okay then,” Morgan says. “Uh, have fun?”

 

Alicia secures a weapon for Al, taking the gun barrel for herself, and steps out into the bright morning sunlight. Birds chirp in the area, which is a good sign, and Al’s digging through the bags packed in the truck bed for an adequate shirt.

 

“No luck?” Alicia questions.

 

“Hang on,” Al says. “I just found my bag. Got it.”

 

She pulls a red plaid shirt free and grins triumphantly. Alicia spots the camcorder clipped to Al’s belt as Al slides into the shirt, though she doesn’t bother to button it, so Alicia doesn’t understand why the buttons are such an imperative feature. It’s not even cold.

 

“I got you a weapon,” Alicia informs. She holds it out, a smile slowly spreading on her face as Al stares at her like she’s grown a second head.

 

“You brought me one of John Dorie’s six-shot revolvers? With his initials, like, engraved on the grip? What’s wrong with you?”

 

“I wanted to see the look on your face,” Alicia laughs.

 

“This thing is practically useless! I get six shots, and I’ll be lucky if I don’t lose my hearing completely if I have to fire this thing.”

 

“Calm down,” Alicia says. “I’ll do all the killing.”

 

“Unless something goes wrong,” Al says. “I have six bullets, then we’re shit out of luck.” She pauses. “How’d you get John to give it up?”

 

“I didn’t,” Alicia says brightly. “I asked June.”

 

“You’re evil.”

 

“Just make sure you don’t lose it.”

 

Al jams the revolver into the waistband of her pants. “I won’t lose it.”

 

They start their walk, heading in the direction opposite of where the plane wreckage is. There’s a light breeze, but Alicia squints against the sunlight. She keeps Al to her right, so Al’s bad side is covered by Alicia. Unfortunately, that makes it harder for Al to hear her, so the first ten minutes of the walk pass without any attempts at conversation. Alicia’s just happy to be outside of the truck stop. Mostly she’s happy to get away from John and June. They have their own room at the factory, so their PDA is normally kept to a minimum when they’re with the rest of the group. But now –

 

“John and June don’t get on your nerves?” Alicia asks suddenly.

 

“What?” Al says. She tears her eyes away from the tree line. “Of course they get on my nerves,” she laughs. “I waited out that hurricane with June in the van, and all she fucking did was watch John’s tape and try to hail him on the walkie and talk about John. Every other word out of her mouth was _John_.”

 

“How did you not strangle her?”

 

“Because June’s my friend,” Al says simply. “And I felt her pain. So I told her I was sure John was fine. I told her we’d find him when the storm ended. I let her watch the tape until the battery on my camera died. I let her try to call him until the walkie died. Not my smartest decision, but it helped her. And when I couldn’t take it anymore, I napped. Then I got sick and kind of altered June’s priorities, but that wasn’t intentional.”

 

Al runs her hand through her hair, and Alicia realizes the camcorder’s still hanging at Al’s belt, untouched since they left. Alicia quickly stops staring at the camera, in case it reminds Al that it’s there.

 

“They’re fine when we’re at the factory and they have a room to themselves,” Alicia says. “But we’re all stuck here together, and they have to sleep all wrapped up in each other –”

 

“They’re happy,” Al says. She grins and shakes her head. “They’re happy,” she repeats. “Let them be happy together.”

 

“We could be like them,” Alicia muses.

 

“Huh?”

 

“I know you’re pretending you can’t hear me,” Alicia says.

 

“Not always,” Al grunts. “Just that time I was faking.”

 

“Right. Just that one time. But seriously. We could be like John and June, then maybe I’d stop being so bitter.”

 

“So you want to be the couple that sleeps all up on each other and spends all day joined at the hip and swaps spit in front of your friends?”

 

“Well, it’d be better without an audience, but why should it matter? I’m not saying we go to the same lengths as John and June currently are, but we could, like, hold hands without everyone giving us weird looks. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

 

Al huffs. “I’m not really the hand holding type.”

 

“You fucking liar!” Alicia exclaims.

 

“Hold on,” Al says. “We’ve been walking for at least fifteen minutes. Where are the dead? We haven’t seen a single one, but they’ve appeared at the truck stop before.”

 

“Don’t change the subject!”

 

“No, seriously,” Al says. She holds her arm out to stop Alicia from walking, and they stand in the middle of the road, unmoving. “It’s silent.”

 

Alicia forces herself to listen. No birds. Nothing but the rustle of leaves on the trees. “So something dead is nearby,” Alicia dismisses. “We’ll kill it when –”

 

“It would be here by now, if it could,” Al says. “It would’ve followed our voices.”

 

“Maybe it’s on its way.”

 

“It’s never this quiet,” Al says. “Something’s not right.”

 

“You’re just trying to distract me from the fact that you are a blatant liar.”

 

“Alicia,” Al says. Alicia stops talking. She adjusts her grip on the gun barrel and scans their surroundings carefully. There’s an abandoned family owned business with a flipped car in its small lot to the right of the road. To the left, forest.

 

“I don’t see anything,” Alicia says. “What do you think it is?”

 

“I don’t know,” Al replies. “Something fucked up, probably.”

 

“Should we head back?”

 

“And lead it to the others?”

 

“We don’t even know something’s there.”

 

Al pulls the revolver from her waistband. “Then let’s find it.”

 

Alicia smirks. “That was hot.”

 

“What?” Al says.

 

“You heard me.”

 

“Actually, that time I didn’t,” Al calls as Alicia continues to walk. Al jogs to catch up, but Alicia skids to a stop at an intersection. The road runs through the woods, but it’s blocked off by the dead.

 

“You were right,” Alicia says. “It’s fucked up.”

 

Al’s jaw hangs open for a moment, then she switches the revolver for the camcorder and starts filming. Alicia takes a few cautious steps toward them. The dead reach for her, the way they always do, and even though their jaws snap, no sound leaves their mouths. Alicia stares in disbelief at them, tied together by their intestines and anchored to the trees in the same manner. Alicia turns back to see Al still filming the dead barrier – how the hell would you set that thing up anyway? – but then she lifts the camera to the trees. Alicia’s eyes follow the camera up, and she gapes at the decapitated heads, strung up by their hair in most cases, dangling from the trees.

 

“What in the fuck?” Alicia blurts. Al sets the camcorder on Alicia’s face, and Alicia’s too confused by the sight ahead of them to care that she’s being filmed. Her eyes lock with Al’s. “What the fuck am I looking at?” Alicia asks.

 

“I don’t know,” Al admits. “But we should tell Morgan. We’re camping out close to a fuckin’ freak show.”

 

Alicia inches closer and realizes why the dead haven’t made a sound. “Someone’s slashed their throats,” Alicia observes. “To keep them silent.”

 

“Except for that obnoxious teeth chattering.”

 

“I’ll handle them,” Alicia declares.

 

“No, stop,” Al orders, catching Alicia’s wrist in her free hand. “What if they’re keeping something worse in?”

 

“You can go around them through the trees,” Alicia says. “What could they possibly be keeping in?”

 

“Vehicles can’t plow through the trees, and most people aren’t dumb enough to get close to _that_. And the heads serve as a nice deterrent. Only a psycho would go to lengths like this, whether they’re intended to keep something in or out.”

 

Point taken. Alicia lowers the gun barrel. “Fine,” she agrees. She slaps the walkie into Al’s hand. “Tell Morgan we’ve got some weird shit to show him when we get back.” Alicia glances at the dead barrier once more and shakes her head. “I fucking hate this place,” she mutters.

 

“Morgan, do you copy?” Al asks. “Morgan?”

 

“Are you guys alright?” Morgan asks.

 

“Yeah, we’re good,” Al answers. “We, uh, we just found something messed up.”

 

Alicia grabs Al’s hand and brings the walkie closer to her. She pushes the button by pushing down on Al’s finger and adds, “Something messed up and concerning.”

 

Al takes the walkie back. “I have footage to show you when we get back. We’re only about fifteen minutes out.”

 

“Hurry back,” Morgan replies. “I’ve talked to Strand.”

 

“Copy that,” Al says. She hands the walkie back to Alicia and jerks her head toward the way they came. “C’mon.”

 

They walk briskly, and Al places the camcorder back on her belt in favor of carrying John’s revolver in her hand. Alicia’s hand bumps against Al’s hip every few steps they take, but neither bothers to stop it. They both break into a jog when the truck stop comes into sight, and Morgan’s been waiting for them at the window. He rushes outside to meet Alicia and Al, leaning against his walking stick, and he waits for an explanation.

 

Al flips the camcorder open and shows him the footage. “Someone strung them up like that,” Al says. “We didn’t touch them,” she adds before Morgan can ask. “Not when we don’t know what their purpose is.”

 

“That’s smart,” Morgan agrees. She rubs at his face and says, “So, only fifteen minutes away?”

 

“Roughly,” Alicia says. “Depends on how fast you walk.”

 

“So much for a relaxing morning stroll,” Al mutters. “You can’t take ten steps without finding another atrocity.”

 

“So you spoke to Strand?” Alicia questions. “What did he say?”

 

“That’s the thing,” Morgan says. “He said he wants to talk to you and only you.”

 

“Then I’ll talk to him,” Alicia says. She passes the gun barrel to Al and heads inside. Morgan and Al follow, and Alicia hears Al return the revolver to John.

 

“Here. For the record, I didn’t want it in the first place,” Al says.

 

Alicia heads into the radio room and kicks the door shut. She takes a seat at the desk and says into the mic, “Victor, you there?”

 

After a few moments of silence, Victor’s voice responds, “Alicia?”

 

“Yeah,” Alicia says. “Morgan said you wanted to talk to me.”

 

“Yeah,” Victor chuckles. “Yeah. You’re never gonna believe this.”

 

“Try me.”

 

“Morgan sent me to check one of Al’s tapes for a man who might have access to a plane,” Victor explains. “The tape is marked _Sal_.”

 

“Am I supposed to know who that is?”

 

“Get this. I play the tape in the camera, right? And do you know whose face pops up?”

 

“No.”

 

“Sal? Sal is _Salazar_. Daniel Salazar is the man with the plane.” Victor holds the button down as he laughs uncontrollably. “I shot that fucker in the _face_ , and Morgan and Al want me to go ask him for a plane. He’ll do much worse than shoot me if I show up at his doorstep.”

 

“So what do we do?” Alicia asks. “Do I go tell them you can’t ask Daniel for the plane because you shot him in the face? Strand, we can’t stay here much longer. I’m going crazy.”

 

“I can try,” Victor offers. “I can try to ask him.”

 

“And if he kills you?”

 

“Well, if I’m MIA for a few days, you’ll know what happened.”

 

“We don’t have a few days,” Alicia says. “Something weird is happening here.”

 

“I could send Sarah and Wendell,” Victor says. “Then Charlie and I can stakeout the factory.” He pauses. “Or I could just go and hope Daniel doesn’t return the favor and put a bullet in my face.”

 

“God, Victor, at this point, I don’t care if you ride here by horseback and take us back one at a time. Do whatever you think is best. I trust you.”

 

Victor remains silent for a while. “Okay,” he agrees. “I’ll check in when I have information. Unless I’m dead. Then I guess Charlie, Sarah, or Wendell will have to let you know that Daniel killed me.”

 

Alicia busts out laughing, unable to help herself. “Be careful,” she tells Victor. “Update us when you can. Or, you know, fly a plane over the mountain and rescue us. But try not to crash it.”

 

“I’m a slightly better pilot than Al,” Victor replies.

 

“Hey, watch it,” Alicia warns. “She’s sensitive about that.”

 

“She crashed a plane and didn’t kill anyone. I think that takes skill.”

 

“Well, don’t crash your plane, okay? We need to get out of this shithole and get our home back.”

 

“I’ll do my best,” Victor assures her. “And if I don’t get that plane – and I survive seeing Daniel – then I’ll find another way to get to you. I promise.”

 

“I know,” Alicia says.

 

“Hold down the fort, Alicia,” Victor tells her. “You got this.”

 

“Victor,” Alicia says.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Don’t die.”

 

“That’s the goal, sweetheart,” Victor says. “We’ll talk soon.”

 

Alicia switches the radio off but isn’t ready to leave the quiet of the radio room. Well, relative quiet. She can hear John and June talking through the door, and Luciana’s telling either Morgan or Al about her desire to learn to play the accordion once more. Alicia, not for the first time, misses her mom. She wishes she had the camera and her mom’s tape, but those are locked in Al’s van, currently under Victor’s care. She has the tape memorized, of course, but there’s something about seeing her mom on tape that’s different than just remembering.

 

And then she thinks about what she said last night. What she said and _filmed_ herself saying.

 

“God,” Alicia breathes, covering her forehead with her palm. “I’m such an idiot.”

 

Al didn’t even say it back. To be fair, Alicia didn’t give her much of a chance the first time, but when she told Al she meant it – she _loves_ her – Al said _I know_. Who says _I know_? Han fucking Solo, but this isn’t a movie. And the _I know_ from Al didn’t mean _I know you love me and I love you_ it meant _I know that you meant what you said_.

 

What the fuck?

 

“Alicia,” Morgan calls. “Lunch!”

 

Alicia joins the group for lunch. Alicia sits with Luciana and eats canned ravioli and talks about the accordion. Everyone knows about the dead tied up with their own intestines. Morgan isn’t one for secrets. But it’s easier to discuss the accordion than potential meanings of the barrier.

 

“Al, how are you feeling?” June calls. Al’s lying on her stomach on her cot, examining the footage on the camcorder – without sound, thank _God_ – but she looks back at June.

 

“I feel great,” Al says. “Never been better.”

 

“See, now I know you’re lying,” June says.

 

June starts to get up, but Al says, “Okay, I am tired of being poked and prodded at. I still can’t hear in my left ear. I still don’t remember falling down that hill. And my back still hurts the way you’d expect a bruised back to hurt. The only thing I need now is time, so _please_ , stop trying to examine me.”

 

“Let’s calm down,” Morgan jumps in. “I know this isn’t an ideal situation, but we’re all just trying to help.”

 

“ _Just trying to help_ got us into this mess,” Al retorts. “I mean, we might as well convert this into our new home, since we’ve lost our other one. This place is bigger than my van at least, and it’s got plenty of excitement just down the road, waiting for us to discover it. So if you ask me, it seems perfect.” She slams the camcorder’s screen shut then hops up and disappears down the hall. A few moments later, the bathroom door slams shut.

 

That wasn’t the outburst Alicia would ever expect from Al, but she smiles smugly at the look of surprise on Morgan’s face.

 

“Alicia,” Morgan finally manages to say. “What did Victor have to tell you?”

 

Alicia hesitates. “He’s working on finding the guy with the plane,” she says. “He doesn’t think the guy’s just going to hand it over.”

 

“Nothing’s ever that easy,” Luciana mutters. “Well, if we’re making this our new home, I want a different bed. This table’s getting more and more uncomfortable each night I spend on it.”

 

“This isn’t our new home,” Morgan insists. “Al’s just –”

 

“She’s what?” Alicia questions, cocking her head to the side.

 

“Stressed,” Morgan finishes. “Frustrated. We all are, but we need to try to keep it together and not turn on each other. Luciana, if your shoulder’s feeling better, we’ll get you a cot to sleep on and put you in the rotation to keep watch.”

 

“Thank you,” Luciana says. “John, will you help me?”

 

John and Luciana shove the table against the far wall, opening the space and allowing everyone to move their cot more than just a couple feet away from the next. John and June drag theirs toward the back corner, and Morgan moves his closer to the door as Luciana sets up dead center in the room. Alicia doesn’t touch her cot, leaving it spaced about two feet from Al’s. They’re closest to Luciana, which is fine with Alicia. As long as Al doesn’t return and drag hers into the radio room or something.

 

“Someone should make sure Al’s alright,” John pipes up. He nudges his hat farther up his head and adds, “And I’m just saying, I don’t think it should be me.”

 

“I can go,” June volunteers.

 

“No,” Alicia says. “I’ve got it.” When everyone stares at her, she defends, “Look, I at least understand where she’s coming from, okay?”

 

“She’s got a point,” John agrees. “Al did kinda blow up at you, honey.”

 

June sighs and sits on her cot. “Just – tell her I’m worried, okay?”

 

Alicia nods. “Anything else?” Alicia says. “Any messages of hope for me to pass along?”

 

“That attitude is unnecessary,” Morgan says.

 

“Just checking,” Alicia says, flashing Morgan a wide smile. She rounds the corner, and the smile slides. Honestly, she has no idea what to say. Besides _told you so_ , but she figures she should save that for later. Alicia knocks her knuckles against the bathroom door and leans against the wall. “What happened to _we need to hold it together_?” Alicia calls. “Or did you not say that to me this morning?”

 

Silence.

 

“Al. Don’t ignore me.”

 

Silence. Alicia shifts uneasily. She’s five seconds away from entertaining irrational thoughts. Thoughts like _the dead silently breached the back of the store, specifically targeted Al, locked themselves in the bathroom with her, and had dinner_. Ridiculous. Also impossible, given everything Alicia knows about the world. But once upon a time, the dead having the ability to walk and eat was impossible, so maybe they’ve finally evolved the ability to think. And if they have, it has happened at the most inconvenient time ever.

 

“Al, I’ll break the door down!” Alicia threatens.

 

“Jesus, calm down,” Al grunts. “God forbid I have two minutes alone.”

 

“The others sent me to check on you,” Alicia informs. “It was gonna be June, so I’d be a little more grateful, if I were you. But June wants you to know she’s just worried.”

 

The door swings open, and Alicia’s joking demeanor falls. Alicia cups Al’s cheek in her hand, touches the pad of her thumb against the one tear on Al’s face, stopping it in its tracks.

 

“What’s wrong?” Alicia whispers.

 

“Nothing,” Al insists. “Just – twisted my back wrong.”

 

“Liar.”

 

“For real.”

 

Alicia purses her lips. “No. You’re totally lying.”

 

Al grabs Alicia’s wrist, pulls Alicia’s hand away from her face, and sets the camcorder in her palm. “I can’t keep this,” Al says.

 

“What?”

 

“I can’t keep it. So you should have it.”

 

“Al, what’s gotten – hey! Don’t walk away from me! What’s gotten into you? Take the camera back!”

 

“Hang onto it for me,” Al suggests. She heads back to join the group, leaving Alicia standing in the doorway of the bathroom like an idiot. She looks down at the camcorder and flips it open. It’s paused on video of Al’s face – the stunned expression that Al wore after Alicia dropped the dreaded L-word.

 

“Victor, you need to hurry the fuck up,” Alicia mutters. “We need to get out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made up the part about Strand having flown before because I don’t remember nor do I care to find out if it’s true or not lol. Strand’s an interesting guy, so I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to say he’s flown a plane before.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave me your thoughts!


	8. 8

The unrelenting rain is back. Al stares at the side of the booth through the darkness, only because it’s eye-level, and she lets her arms hang off the side of her cot. Every few minutes, June whispers the same question: _are you still awake?_ And every few minutes, Al mumbles, “Yeah,” and June goes _okay good just checking_.

 

Being on watch has its advantages. It sucks after a tiring day, but tonight, Al’s more than happy to have the first watch. It gives her time to think.

 

Just a few hours before, she’d shut herself in the bathroom with her camcorder. The door slams, and Al immediately rewinds the footage, back past the barrier made of the living dead, all the way back until she sees her own face. She hits play, keeping the volume low, and she watches intently.

 

“I love you,” Alicia says forcefully. Al watches her own reaction, something like a cross between shock and bewilderment. Like Alicia has just presented her with a complex math problem and ordered her to solve it in under two minutes at gunpoint. “And I don’t care if anyone knows, even if it messes up my ability to lead or if it becomes just one more story you’ve laid open to the world. I don’t care,” Alicia says. The screen goes briefly black then starts playing the next recorded piece. Al rewinds and watches it again. Then one more time. It’s less than thirty seconds of footage, all focused on Al’s face as Alicia speaks.

 

_I love you_.

 

Jesus, Al should’ve just blurted it out right then and there. Should’ve said it back instantly. She at least should’ve said it when Alicia reaffirmed that she meant it.

 

There’s a light rapping sound on the bathroom door, followed by Alicia saying, “What happened to _we need to hold it together_? Or did you not say that to me this morning?”

 

Al did say that. She remembers saying that, thank you very much. The video plays back again. Alicia says _I love you_ again, and Al sits there wearing the dumbest fucking look in the world. Al pauses the video and shuts the camera, heaving a sigh.

 

“Al. Don’t ignore me,” Alicia says.

 

Al reaches for the door handle but hesitates. She’s not ignoring Alicia. She just doesn’t know what to say. She could pull the door open and she could – she could say it back. She could see the same dumbass expression on Alicia’s face that Alicia saw on Al’s face – that Alicia captured on film forever. She could do it.

 

“Al, I’ll break the door down!” Alicia shouts.

 

Al has seen Alicia break down doors. Now would be the perfect time to find her voice. “Jesus, calm down. God forbid I have two minutes alone.”

 

_Stupid._ The whole thing ends with Al handing over the camcorder. She can’t imagine keeping it now. She tells Alicia to hang onto it, and damn it, Alicia listened. She’s passed out on the cot behind Al, clutching that fucking hunk of metal to her chest.

 

“Are you still awake?” June whispers. Even though she’s all the way across the room, Al hears her with perfect clarity. It’s the only other sound besides the rain hitting the roof.

 

“Yeah,” Al answers. She taps her fingers against the floor. She waits for June’s response. For a moment, she thinks June didn’t hear her. She’s about to repeat herself, even shifting onto her back, then considers maybe June did say something and she just didn’t hear it. Al glances over at Alicia, since it’s convenient for her right now, and Alicia’s still fast asleep, still holding the camera. Alicia’s cot is still close enough for Al to touch. They’re the only two that didn’t spread out when John and Luciana pushed the main table out of the way.

 

“You know,” June says, “if you want to talk – about anything – we, uh, we could.”

 

Al scoffs. “I appreciate the offer, June. I really do. But I don’t have anything to say.”

 

“I think you do.” Al hears June sit up on the other side of the room, but it’s too dark to properly see her. “Al,” June sighs, “you spent _days_ listening to me yammer on about John during that hurricane – about looking for him, about whether or not he was okay, about the things that had already happened to us. The only thing I ever talked about was John until you got sick. The least I can do is let you rant once in a while.”

 

“I don’t need to rant,” Al says.

 

“Is there something you do need?”

 

Al stifles her unexpected laughter with her hand then answers, “Yeah. Lots of things.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Are you serious?”

 

“Very.”

 

“Chocolate would be nice. We don’t seem to find a lot of chocolate anymore.”

 

“I miss coffee,” June says. “The last time I had coffee, I got antifreeze poisoning.”

 

“I need to not be trapped in one room with all of you,” Al admits.

 

“Me too,” June agrees. “John and I haven’t gotten a real moment alone since we left the factory. You and Alicia have had more quality time together than me and John.”

 

Al thinks that over for a moment. “You just have to seize the opportunity when it presents itself,” Al says.

 

“Is that what you’ve done?” June questions. Al doesn’t like the suggestive tone of June’s voice and instinctively laughs it off. “That was a serious question,” June says.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Al replies.

 

“Ever since the plane went down, you two have been spending _lots_ of time together.”

 

“We’re friends,” Al dismisses. “That didn’t change after I crashed the plane. I just gave her a real reason to be concerned about my well-being – well, a couple real reasons to be concerned, I guess.”

 

“You’ve given us all reasons to be concerned,” June points out.

 

“Alicia’s just…passionate.”

 

June snorts. “If that’s what you want to call it, sure.” June pauses thoughtfully. “She trusts you more than the rest of us.”

 

“No,” Al says. “She trusts Luci and Strand more than me.” That might not actually be true anymore, but June doesn’t need to know that.

 

“She’s known them longer. But me, John, and Morgan? That’s not even a contest. She’d sacrifice us all to save you.”

 

“I don’t know about that,” Al lies.

 

“She shot John,” June reminds.

 

“She nearly pushed me out of my van into the dead,” Al counters. She doesn’t tell June about the other times Alicia also either explicitly tried to kill her or threatened her with the possibility of death. Instead, Al mutters, “That was a different time.”

 

“Alicia would kill for you,” June says. “It’s pretty obvious.”

 

“To you.”

 

“To anyone that pays attention,” June corrects.

 

“She puts the group first.”

 

“For now.”

 

“She’ll keep putting the group first,” Al says.

 

“How can you know that?”

 

“It’s called faith,” Al says.

 

“You’re putting your faith in Alicia then?” June challenges.

 

“Aren’t you?”

 

“No,” June says. “She’s a kid.”

 

“She’s twenty-four,” Al says. “She’s not a kid.”

 

“Compared to the rest of us? She’s a kid. And she’s been through a lot.”

 

“What’s your point?” Al huffs. “Because our watch is almost up.”

 

“Well, I _was_ trying to get you to talk about something of emotional significance, but instead, we’re talking about Alicia. Or is that the same thing to you?”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“Our watch is up,” June announces. “Do me a favor and wake Morgan and Alicia?”

 

“Fine,” Al grunts. She’s just happy to be out of that conversation.

 

“Goodnight,” June says. Al listens to her shift around, probably getting comfortable with John. Al sits up and runs her hand through her hair, exhaling. She should’ve taken more ibuprofen before trying to go to bed, that’s for sure. Her head’s killing her, but that could be due to multiple things – lack of sleep, dehydration, having banged it around in the crash and when she went out exploring on her own. Al stands, intending to walk over to wake Morgan as soon as she figures out a clear path, but Alicia mumbles something in her sleep. Al pauses, lingering in the limited space between her cot and Alicia’s.

 

“June?” Al whispers. “You still up?”

 

Alicia mumbles something else, but June doesn’t answer.

 

“June!” Al hisses. Satisfied with June’s continuing lack of response, Al crouches down and gently shakes Alicia’s arm. “Alicia,” she whispers.

 

“Hmm?” Alicia says. “What’s going on?”

 

“It’s your watch,” Al informs.

 

“It’s two already?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Alicia rubs at her eyes with her free hand. She refuses to let go of the camcorder. “Is Morgan up yet?” Alicia yawns.

 

“No. I was just going to wake him.”

 

“Wait.” Alicia reaches out, accidentally smacking her hand against the center of Al’s chest. “Don’t go yet.”

 

“I’m not.”

 

Alicia hesitates. “Can you just – don’t wake Morgan up, okay?”

 

“I have to.”

 

“No. Stay on watch with me,” Alicia requests.

 

“Leesh, I’ve already been up two hours.”

 

“Twenty minutes,” Alicia bargains. “Come on.”

 

Al grins. “Okay,” she agrees. “Move over.”

 

“There’s not enough room for both of us.”

 

“I know,” Al says, pushing at the back of Alicia’s thigh. “Just slide a little.”

 

Al hears Alicia set the camcorder on the floor as she positions herself on her side at the very edge of the cot. Al lowers herself into the remaining space, and Alicia immediately leans back into her – not that she has much of a choice if she wants to stay on the cot rather than end up on the floor. Al’s arm locks around Alicia’s waist, one of Al’s legs slipping between both of Alicia’s, and Alicia exhales contently as Al’s nose nuzzles against the back of her neck. Alicia links her fingers through Al’s, holding their hands against her stomach.

 

“Don’t fall asleep,” Alicia warns.

 

“Keep me up,” Al murmurs against the nape of Alicia’s neck. Alicia squeezes Al’s hand a little tighter.

 

“Okay,” Alicia says. “Then here’s the thing. Victor’s going to have trouble getting that plane from your guy, Sal.”

 

Al’s eyebrows pull together. “Why?” she asks.

 

“Because Sal is Daniel Salazar, and Victor shot him in the face the last time he saw him.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

“I know.”

 

“So what’s Strand going to do?”

 

“I think he’s going to try to get the plane,” Alicia says. “And if Daniel kills him, we’ll find out through Charlie, Wendell, or Sarah.”

 

“That’s a terrible plan.”

 

“I trust Victor,” Alicia says.

 

“I do, too. But I’m worried.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Sal – Daniel Salazar? He’s lost a lot, hasn’t he?” Al asks.

 

Alicia stiffens. “He lost the people he loved most.”

 

“That’s why I’m worried,” Al says. “He’s got nothing left to lose. That makes him dangerous.”

 

“He’s already dangerous. Trust me.”

 

Al inhales deeply. “Don’t tell anyone else,” she decides.

 

“I wasn’t going to. That’s why Victor wanted to speak to just me earlier.”

 

“Even if Victor doesn’t get the plane…we’re going to find a way out of here. You know that, right?” Al says.

 

“Yeah,” Alicia says. “Eventually. It’ll probably take two weeks before Morgan decides to let us go.”

 

They lie in silence for a while, Al’s faced pressed against the back of Alicia’s neck as Alicia plays with her fingers. More than twenty minutes passes before Al bothers to say, “Our twenty minutes are up.”

 

“They’ve been up, but I don’t see you going anywhere.”

 

“I don’t want to get up,” Al complains. “Give me something to throw at Morgan so I can wake him for his watch.”

 

“I don’t have anything besides the camcorder.”

 

“That’ll do.”

 

“No!” Alicia hisses. “What’s wrong with you?”

 

Al chuckles. “I was kidding, obviously. That would hurt him.”

 

“I doubt you’d even be able to hit him from here.”

 

“Please,” Al snorts. “I played softball in college. I was the best pitcher my school had. I could hit Morgan from the other end of the room if I wanted to.”

 

“You played softball?” Alicia questions. “What are you, a walking lesbian stereotype?”

 

“Wow, excuse you,” Al laughs. “For one thing, I’m not even a lesbian.”

 

“You’re not?” Alicia questions. “For real?”

 

The words slip out of Al’s mouth before she realizes what she’s saying. “I was married.”

 

“ _What_?” Alicia blurts.

 

“Shh!” Al hisses, releasing Alicia’s hand and clamping her own hand over Alicia’s mouth as she continues to talk in a voice that is _way_ too loud. Al’s hand muffles the sound until Alicia gives up. “Shit,” Al says, mostly to herself. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

 

Alicia pries Al’s hand off her mouth. “You never told me that,” Alicia says, thankfully lowering her voice.

 

“It never came up.”

 

“There were plenty of opportunities for you to _bring_ it up,” Alicia points out.

 

“Why? It wasn’t really relevant.” Al hesitates. “And it’s not something I like to talk about.”

 

“Just to be clear, you were married to a man, right?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I didn’t know you even liked men!”

 

“It’s not that surprising,” Al says. “You like men.”

 

“Yeah, but it’s, like, obvious.”

 

Al rolls her eyes to herself. “Whatever, Leesh. Can we just drop it?”

 

“For now,” Alicia says reluctantly. “But we’re coming back to this.”

 

“Then we’re going to talk about your past boyfriends, too,” Al counters. Al takes Alicia’s silence to mean either she’s considering it or she’s going to let it go – hopefully forever.

 

“What happened to him?” Alicia finally murmurs.

 

“What?”

 

“Your…husband – sorry, that just sounds weird – but what happened to him?”

 

“What do you think?” Al asks wryly. “He isn’t here, is he?”

 

“Obviously not. But you were a journalist. You traveled. Maybe he’s in a different country or –”

 

“He’s dead,” Al interrupts. “But you already knew that.”

 

“Oh,” Alicia breathes. “Al, I’m sorry.”

 

Al exhales heavily and tightens her arm around Alicia’s stomach. Al could hardly get closer to Alicia if she tried. “It’s fine,” Al manages to say. She clears her throat, takes a few breaths before adding, “He died before the dead started walking. So it was – it was a long time ago.”

 

“Al?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Don’t fall.”

 

“What?”

 

Al barely keeps herself from hitting the floor when Alicia starts to move. She pulls Al’s arm away and holds it as she rolls onto her back, gently lowering Al’s arm so her hand’s up by Alicia’s shoulder. Al’s face ends up in the side of Alicia’s neck as Alicia’s arm wraps around her, urging her closer. Al has no choice but to lie halfway atop Alicia, one leg flung across both of Alicia’s and hanging partly off the side of the cot. Al holds onto Alicia to keep herself from getting too close to the edge. The last thing her back needs is to hit the concrete floor.

 

“That worked,” Alicia says. “I thought for sure you’d end up on the floor.”

 

“You want me to hurt my back even more, huh?” Al jokes.

 

“Oh my God, I didn’t even think –”

 

“It’s okay,” Al cuts in, chuckling. “It’s okay. You didn’t hurt me.”

 

“Okay, good.”

 

“I was supposed to wake Morgan a while ago,” Al muses.

 

“Don’t wake him,” Alicia suggests. She turns her head, presses her nose and lips against the top of Al’s head before continuing, “Just stay on watch with me.”

 

“You just want to pry more information about the past out of me,” Al replies.

 

“No,” Alicia says. She strokes her fingertips down Al’s arm, then drags them back up. “I just want you here.”

 

“I’m here.”

 

“Or you could wake Morgan and just…stay?” Alicia says hopefully. “You could sleep. I’ll stay up –”

 

“Alicia.”

 

“Fine,” Alicia sighs. “I know. But then you have to stay up.”

 

“I’m up.” Al pauses. “So tell me about your boyfriends,” she says.

 

“Al.”

 

“I told you I was married, and he’s dead now. You owe me some dirt.”

 

Alicia laughs, but it dies out quickly. “You know about as much as I know about your husband. I had a couple boyfriends. They’re all dead. There’s not much more to it. That’s not as interesting as – Al, you were _married_.”

 

“That’s a normal thing that people do,” Al says defensively.

 

“Yeah, but – wait, did you lie to me about your age?”

 

“What? Of course not! I told you I’m thirty, and I am.”

 

“So how old were you when you got married?”

 

Al exhales heavily. “Leesh, I don’t really –”

 

“Just this one question.”

 

“Twenty-one.”

 

“That young?”

 

“You said just that one question,” Al teases. She tilts her head up and presses her lips against the side of Alicia’s neck, and to Al’s relief, Alicia’s next question dies in her throat. 

 

“Don’t do that,” Alicia says weakly.

 

“Then stop asking questions.”

 

“So if I don’t stop…?”

 

“I’ll make you.”

 

“Okay, do it,” Alicia challenges.

 

“Okay,” Al says. “You asked for it.”

 

She clamps her hand over Alicia’s mouth again. Al smiles at the little noise of indignation Alicia makes in response and doesn’t resist when Alicia pulls her hand away. Their hands rest on Alicia’s chest, fingers tangled together, as Al laughs silently and Alicia pouts.

 

“That’s not what I thought you meant,” Alicia grumbles. “Stop laughing. It’s not funny.”

 

“It’s pretty funny.”

 

“You really don’t want to talk about it?” Alicia blurts. “I know you thought you distracted me, but –”

 

“Do you want to talk about your dead loved ones?”

 

“I will,” Alicia insists. “In exchange for information about yours.”

 

“That’s morbid.”

 

“You’re the one that wants to collects everyone’s damn story. It’s a win-win. I find out more about you, you find out more about me.”

 

“Later,” Al promises.

 

Alicia inhales deeply. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Alicia brings her hand up from Al’s arm to her hair, combs her fingers through Al’s short locks. Thankfully, Alicia stops asking questions. Al loses track of time as they lie there, and she also temporarily loses feeling in the leg that’s been hanging off the side of the cot. It takes all of Al’s remaining willpower to keep herself awake as Alicia incessantly strokes her fingers through her hair.

 

“I’m sorry,” Alicia says after what feels like hours passes in silence. “For prying.”

 

“Don’t be,” Al replies roughly. “Is your watch over yet?”

 

“Almost. It’s 3:57.”

 

“That’s close enough.”

 

Al braces herself on the edges of the cot as she pulls her leg back. She tries to shake out the numbness, which doesn’t work, so she’s extra careful when she plants her feet on the ground. She sits on the edge of the cot, back to Alicia, for a moment while she waits for her leg to respond. Al exhales and pushes both her hands into her hair until she feels Alicia’s fingers gently touch her mid-back, right above the patch of bruising. Al glances back at the worried expression on Alicia’s face.

 

“You’re sure you’re good?” Alicia asks.

 

“Yeah,” Al assures her. “I just can’t feel my leg.”

 

“What? Why –”

 

“It fell asleep when it was hanging off the side of the cot,” Al dismisses. “These things really aren’t built for two people. I’m good. I promise.”

 

Al risks standing, even though the numbness in her leg has only half worn off, and she bends over, quickly presses her lips to Alicia’s forehead, caresses the side of Alicia’s face, then pulls away and crosses the room to wake Morgan.

 

“Hey, bud,” Al says, tapping Morgan on the shoulder. “Your watch.”

 

Morgan stirs, and Al heads to the other side of the room to wake John. He’s got both his arms wrapped around June, holding her to him, and Al makes a face, as if she and Alicia weren’t all over each other just a few moments before. Al lifts John’s hat off his face, and that’s enough to wake him up, though his face contorts in confusion.

 

“Your watch,” Al tells him, dropping his hat onto his stomach. She walks away before John’s fully aware of his surroundings and returns to her own cot. Al can’t help but to look at Alicia, but she’s already asleep – or she’s pretending to be. She hasn’t taken Al’s shirt off since she first put it on, and Al smiles to herself. Al passes out moments after her body settles onto her cot, but she’s pulled out of slumber after the sun’s up, having dreamt about being crushed by a fridge. Her eyes open, but the feeling of being crushed doesn’t go away. Al instinctively tries to sit up, but she finds herself trapped.

 

“Good morning,” June says cheerfully from where she’s seated in the booth. She cradles a mug in her hands and stares down at Al, wearing a smug smile. “Looks like you’re in quite an interesting situation.”

 

“I think I’m dying,” Al says before she turns her eyes down at herself. Alicia is full on lying on top of Al, head nestled beneath Al’s chin, chest rising and falling steadily. Al lifting her head doesn’t disturb Alicia. Al looks over at June, glares at the amused expression on June’s face. “What’s going on?” Al finally asks.

 

“Beats me,” June says. “I woke up and you two were like…that.”

 

“I went to sleep _alone_ ,” Al insists.

 

“Then I think you know what happened,” June replies. She sips at the hot liquid in her mug, swallows, then says, “John and Morgan went out this morning on a supply run. John brought back some coffee, if you’d like a mug.”

 

Al drops her head back down onto the cot. “Coffee’s not really my thing,” she mutters. “But if they brought back any alcohol, I want in.”

 

“No alcohol,” June says. “Which is a shame. Morgan wants to go check out the dead you found yesterday for himself, so I think we could all use a drink.”

 

“He didn’t go alone, did he?”

 

“He hasn’t even left,” June says. “He’s waiting for everyone to wake up, and, um, someone’s still asleep.”

 

Al glances down at Alicia. She looks back up at June, watches June shrug and smirk and drink her coffee, and Al sighs.

 

“All I’m going to say is,” June says, “she’s sleeping a lot more peacefully on you than she ever sleeps when she’s on her own.”

 

“Yeah, while she was sleeping peacefully, I was dreaming about a refrigerator crushing me,” Al grumbles. “And my back hurts.”

 

“Ah,” June says with a wide smile. “The things you sacrifice for the people you love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Al was absent in the third episode, and I’m not pleased lol. This story is going completely off the rails from this season’s plot. I’m going to do my own thing and make a bunch of shit up, but I’ll likely draw inspiration from the episodes as they’re released. You know, if Al ever reappears in the show. Also I’m making up Al’s backstory, since the show has yet to reveal any actual details about Al’s past. So it's very possible season 5 could totally contradict what I'm doing here.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts/questions/concerns, and I'll respond as quickly as I can!


	9. 9

Alicia’s neck is sore. She must’ve been sleeping in an awkward position. She groans and lifts her head. The cot’s a lot more comfortable than she remembers. It’s also suddenly red and plaid. Alicia’s blood runs cold. She fell asleep. She wasn’t supposed to fall asleep. She was just going to lay with Al until she calmed down, until the effects of the nightmare wore off, but she _fell asleep_.

 

“Seems like you slept well,” June comments, startling the hell out of Alicia.

 

“Huh?” Alicia says. Her eyebrows pull together, and she grabs onto Al’s bicep for leverage as she sits herself up on the edge of the cot. June’s off to the side, sitting in the booth nearby and clutching onto a mug. “What’s going on?” Alicia asks, putting on the most dumbfounded look she can manage.

 

“You tell me,” Al says. Alicia glances down to where Al’s still lying on her back. Al’s not paying attention, though; her eyes are set on June, so the grin on her face probably has very little to do with Alicia and more to do with June’s comment. Besides, who knows how long these two have been up? Maybe they’ve been making fun of her this whole time.

 

“Shit, guys,” Alicia says, putting her hand against her forehead. She makes the fakest concerned expression ever and continues, “I think I sleepwalk now!”

 

Al and June bust out laughing. Alicia smiles sheepishly as her face heats up. She quickly springs to her feet as Al begins to sit up herself, and Alicia straightens her – well, Al’s – shirt out then rolls the sleeves. She meets Al’s gaze once Al’s on her feet, but Al has become completely unreadable. If she’s angry, she’s not showing it, but Alicia can’t tell if she’s actually cool with this or not.

 

Al rubs at the back of her neck then claps Alicia on the shoulder and steps around her. “Mo-Mo!” Al calls, heading for the radio room. “What’s the game plan?”

 

“What is she talking about?” Alicia asks June.

 

“Morgan wants to see the dead all tied up for himself,” Luciana answers before June gets the chance to. “He wants to investigate it.”

 

“That’s not a bad idea,” Alicia says. Maybe Morgan will agree to let her kill them and take a look at what’s farther up that road. Alicia gathers her hair in her hands and twists it up into a quick, messy bun. She unbuttons Al’s shirt and folds it up neatly. She can already tell it’s going to be a hot, nasty sort of day. “I’m gonna check the truck for a new shirt,” Alicia tells June.

 

“Be careful,” June says. Alicia peers out the window, though, and the area looks clear. She leaves the gun barrel behind and makes the trip fast. Al managed to find one of Alicia’s bags at the wreckage, and Alicia pulls it free. She selects another black shirt and changes into it on the spot, tossing the dirty one into the truck bed. She doesn’t like leaving her arms bare, but the sun’s already blazing, and even though Alicia has only been outside a couple of minutes, she’s beginning to sweat.

 

Alicia walks back inside to find Morgan, John, and Al prepping their gear.

 

“What’s going on?” Alicia asks.

 

“We’re going back to the road you found yesterday,” Morgan says. “Al, John, and I are going to check it out.”

 

Alicia’s eyes immediately go to Al, but Al merely gives a little shrug and fixes the collar of her plaid shirt so it lays properly. “I’m coming with you,” Alicia declares.

 

“I think it’d be best if you and June stayed here with Luci,” Morgan says.

 

“No,” Alicia insists. “Luci and June can hold their own. You guys don’t know what you’re walking into out there. If – if you’re ambushed or something – Morgan, you’re still limping, and Al still can’t hear right. I should go with you.”

 

“Oh, let her come,” John says, knocking the back of his hand against Morgan’s arm. He adjusts his hat and smiles. “She’s right, you know. June and Luci can handle themselves for a bit.”

 

“I can move my fingers,” Luciana pipes up. “I could start to learn to play the accordion. That was the drugs talking when I first said that, but I could do it if I wanted to.”

 

Alicia hesitates. “If you want me to stay…” she says. Her eyes search Luciana’s face, but Luciana smiles and shakes her head.

 

“You go,” Luciana says. “June and I will be good here.”

 

“Radio if you need us,” Morgan reminds. He passes the walkie to John; John hooks it on his belt and checks both of his revolvers to ensure they’re fully loaded. Alicia picks up her gun barrel, and as an afterthought, she takes the camcorder along, too. She’s aware of Al’s eyes tracking her every movement, but Alicia acts as though it’s normal for her to clip a camera to her belt before they head out for what’ll likely result in a minor bloodbath – for the dead, that is. Besides, she’s mostly taking it because she bets Al will want to film something at some point. Al will want the camera back as soon as shit starts to get nasty. It’s in her nature.

 

“We’ll see you soon,” Alicia says. She hugs Luciana carefully at first, too afraid she’s going to hurt her, but Luciana’s grip is strong on her good side.

 

“Take care of yourself,” Luciana murmurs next to Alicia’s ear. “I don’t need –” She cuts herself off and shakes her head, taking a step back from the embrace. She touches her palm to Alicia’s cheek, quickly, then smiles. “Keep an eye on that one,” Luciana whispers, nodding toward Al. “Don’t let her do anything stupid.”

 

“I know I can’t hear sometimes,” Al says, whipping around to face Luciana and Alicia, “but I heard that.”

 

“Heard what?” Luciana says. “No one said anything.”

 

“Right,” Al says, but for a moment, doubt flickers on her face. Alicia steps aside as Al approaches. Al grins and says, “Make sure June doesn’t drink too much coffee while we’re gone. I can’t come back to June bouncing off the walls.”

 

Luciana laughs, and Alicia realizes June didn’t hear a single thing Al said because she’s in the midst of saying her goodbyes to John, like he’s going on a month-long trip rather than a an hour-long hike. Al hugs Luciana goodbye; Alicia watches Al carefully avoid Luciana’s shoulder and watches Luciana keep her hand safely against Al’s upper back. Then Alicia tears her eyes away, feeling like she’s intruding on a moment, but at the same time, her chest swells at the thought of Al being friends with Luciana. Her partner being friends with Nick’s partner. In a perfect world –

 

“Alright,” Al announces loudly. “Break it up, you two. You can be apart for an hour. Move aside, John.”

 

Al hugs June goodbye, leaves her with a warning to pace herself with the coffee, and Alicia trails behind, nodding her own goodbye to June.

 

“Watch your back,” June reminds.

 

“We always do,” Al calls over her shoulder.

 

“No, I mean literally,” June says. “Don’t strain yourself.”

 

Al spins around and points directly at June. “Don’t drink all that coffee while we’re gone.”

 

Alicia watches Al throw a wink at June and grin before she disappears out the door. Alicia looks back one last time, as if June and Luciana are going to beg her to stay or something, then pulls the door shut behind her. Morgan and John have already reached the road, and Alicia has to jog just to catch up to Al.

 

“Wait,” Alicia says, grabbing Al’s wrist. “Are you even armed?”

 

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Al snorts. “I’ve got June’s knife. But if you see something conveniently pointy, grab it for me, yeah?”

 

“Are you insulting my gun barrel?” Alicia questions.

 

“I think technically I’d be insulting your choice of weapons, not the weapon itself,” Al points out. “But I’m not insulting you. I’m saying you have an eye for makeshift weapons, and if you see one, you should grab it for me.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Alicia stares ahead at the two men. Morgan leans heavily into his stick but keeps pace with John, walking briskly with his cowboy-wannabe swagger. They’re far enough ahead that they’re probably out of earshot, but not so far that Al and Alicia can’t easily follow them. Alicia gets struck with an idea and pulls the camcorder off her belt. She’s aware that Al’s watching her, especially as she gets the camera on and sets it on John and Morgan.

 

“What are you doing?” Al finally asks.

 

“I’m doing June a favor,” Alicia snickers. She zooms in until the camera’s screen is focused on John’s butt.

 

“Knock it off,” Al says, swatting at Alicia’s hands until she lowers the camera.

 

“Hey, I’m out here filming the important stuff,” Alicia defends. She zooms back out and turns the camera on Al. “All you ever want is, like, emotional testimony and shit,” Alicia says. Al stares straight ahead, jaw clenching and unclenching, and Alicia continues, “Once in a while you should film something visually appealing.”

 

“Like John’s ass?” Al sneers.

 

“I bet you June finds John’s ass visually appealing.”

 

“Don’t put those images in my head,” Al laughs. “And stop filming this conversation!”

 

“What?” Alicia says, grinning. “You don’t want to talk about John’s ass with me?”

 

“I pride myself in not looking at my friends’ asses, thank you very much,” Al replies.

 

“But his pants fit so well for the end of the world,” Alicia muses. “And you’re a liar. You’ve been staring at my ass since we first met.”

 

“We skipped over the friendship stage,” Al says. “So technically, my staring at your ass doesn’t fall under staring at my friend’s ass.”

 

“Whatever,” Alicia says. She puts the camera away. John and Morgan are nearing the intersection with the freaky barrier.

 

“So why did I wake up with you asleep on top of me?” Al asks.

 

Alicia sighs. “We have to do this now? We’re approaching the thing.”

 

“I’m just curious. I know I went to sleep alone. I had this weird dream about being trapped under a fridge –”

 

“I do _not_ weigh that much!”

 

“No, but you were on my chest.”

 

“It was comfortable,” Alicia mumbles. John and Morgan come to a stop. John nudges his hat farther up and drops his hands to his hips as he stares up the road. Alicia rushes to get the rest of the words out before John or Morgan can hear. “I just – I had this dream, and I was just going to stay until I was – you know, until I calmed down. And I didn’t start out on your chest, and I _swear_ , I didn’t mean to actually fall asleep.”

 

“Okay,” Al says. “It’s okay.” Her smile is gentle, but it fades when they meet up with John and Morgan at the intersection.

 

“Nice of you ladies to join us,” Morgan quips.

 

“So what are we gonna do about our friends here?” John asks. His hand rests against one of his revolvers.

 

“Don’t forget our _friends_ in the trees,” Alicia says.

 

“There’s probably a hundred of ‘em,” John mutters. “I can’t shoot every single one.”

 

“Yeah, you only have twelve bullets,” Al says wryly. John shoots her a disgruntled look but doesn’t justify her response with a comment of his own.

 

“What do you think’s up the road?” Alicia asks. “This seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to in order to hide something. And if you ask me, it’s not very effective.”

 

“Maybe it isn’t meant to be,” Morgan says. “Maybe it’s just meant to be a warning.”

 

“Or it’s a sign,” Alicia says. “A sign that we need to pack the hell up and leave this place.”

 

“What’s the worst that happens if we kill them?” John questions. “If it sets off something, we go back to the truck stop, get June and Luciana, and we drive until we run out of gas.”

 

“I agree with John,” Alicia says. She brandishes the gun barrel, but Morgan holds his arm out to stop her.

 

“Strand could be on his way,” Morgan says.

 

Alicia and Al exchange a glance before Alicia says, “I highly doubt it.”

 

Morgan blinks. “We’ll talk about whatever that look you two shared was about later. But for now, they look secure. We should let them be.”

 

“No,” Alicia says. “I can’t sleep knowing these things are strung up out here.”

 

“Someone must’ve strung them up,” Morgan says. “And if we kill them, it might anger whoever that someone is, and they might target us.”

 

“We haven’t seen any signs of life around here except us,” Alicia says.

 

“The dead haven’t been coming to the truck stop,” John jumps in. “What if this someone is trying to help?”

 

“Unlikely,” Al says. She frowns and shakes her head. “If they knew about us and were trying to help, why wouldn’t they show themselves?”

 

“Because they aren’t as stupid as we are?” Alicia offers. “Our headfirst approach hasn’t exactly been successful.”

 

“We can’t be sure there are people here,” John says. He rubs at his jaw. “These things could be left over from God knows when. Maybe someone tied them up and left the area ages ago.”

 

“See?” Alicia says, mostly to Morgan. “John’s probably right, and if he isn’t, we can handle the consequences.”

 

“We need to think –” Morgan starts, but Alicia quickly cuts in.

 

“No, we need to _act_. I’m tired of thinking. All we’ve been doing is sitting around _thinking_. Thinking about how we’re going to get out of here. Thinking about how Logan took our home. Thinking about _that_.” She points at the dead. “I am _done_ thinking.” Alicia steps toward the road, holding the gun barrel in her hands, and she challenges, “Is anyone going to stop me?”

 

She sets her gaze on Al. Their eyes lock, but nothing in Al’s face says she disagrees, and Al doesn’t verbally disagree with her, so Alicia pivots and approaches the dead. They try in vain to grab onto her, but she starts at one end, staying just out of reach.

 

“Alicia, think about this,” Morgan says.

 

“I did,” Alicia calls. “Now I’m going to do something.”

 

She thrusts the end of the gun barrel into the brain of the dead guy on the end then cuts through the strand of intestine holding his body to the tree and to his neighbors. One by one, she kills the dead and cuts them free of the intestines wound around their bodies. She stabs the barrel into the brain of the last one and yanks it free with a grunt before the body hits the ground. She swipes at the sweat on her forehead with her arm and stares at the bodies littering the pavement around her.

 

“See what happened?” Alicia says. “A whole lotta nothing. Let’s find out what these things are guarding.”

 

“Alicia! Slow down!” Morgan shouts.

 

“I’ll catch her,” Al says. “Alicia! Hold up!”

 

Alicia slows her pace but doesn’t stop walking up the road. It winds through the forest, making it impossible to see what lies ahead, but she’s determined to find out. She listens to the sound of Al’s boots on the pavement grow closer and glances over as Al matches her pace.

 

“Hey, let’s wait a minute,” Al says, gently taking Alicia’s arm. “Before you stumble into some death trap at the end of this creepy-ass road.”

 

“Please don’t take Morgan’s side on this,” Alicia hisses. She shakes Al’s hand off her arm, eyes flicking down the road where John and Morgan linger.

 

“We don’t know what we’re getting into,” Al says.

 

“There’s only one way to find out.”

 

Al throws her arms up and exclaims, “March headfirst to fuck knows where? _Anything_ could be at the end of this road.”

 

“Answers,” Alicia says. “There are answers at the end.”

 

Al presses her lips together. “Stay here,” Al orders. She jogs back to Morgan and John, and Alicia watches Al argue – mostly with Morgan – for a minute. From what Alicia can tell, whatever Al says sways John, and John pulls one of his revolvers from his hip and hands it to Al. Al pats John on the arm, says one last thing to a stone-faced Morgan, then returns.

 

“So?” Alicia says.

 

“John and Morgan are going to stay back, make sure no one comes around,” Al informs. “Not that anything’s around this area anyway, but whatever, if it makes them feel useful. I promised I’d turn us back if we found something.”

 

“And if we don’t come back?” Alicia questions.

 

Al grins and shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess they’ll have to come looking for us. So let’s make sure we come back, yeah?”

 

They start walking. Alicia waits until they’re around the next bend, out of sight from John and Morgan, to reach over and slip her hand into Al’s. Al links their fingers together, holding John Dorie’s revolver in her free hand. She spins it around her hand, holds it out, and aims at a tree out in the distance. Alicia watches with her eyebrows raised as Al laughs and jams the revolver into her waistband.

 

“I could be a gunslinger,” Al says. “I’d pull off the hat better than John.”

 

Alicia snorts. “Yeah, I’d love to see that.”

 

Al grins. “Maybe you will.”

 

“No, I don’t think the cowboy aesthetic would fit you as well as the lumberjack aesthetic you’re trying to go for,” Alicia ponders. “We’ll get you an axe, more plaid, and you can kick up your workout routine –”

 

“Don’t criticize my workout routine,” Al shoots. “I crashed a plane and hurt myself. I’ve earned a few days off.”

 

“You’re gonna get soft,” Alicia teases. She jabs her finger into Al’s side, and Al uses their interlocked hands to knock Alicia’s other hand aside.

 

“Shouldn’t you keep that barrel in your hand?” Al grumbles. “I know we’re holding hands, but this isn’t a leisurely stroll.”

 

“It might as well be,” Alicia says. “There isn’t jack shit out here. Just trees.”

 

“Thankfully without heads hanging from them,” Al says.

 

“Yeah, that’s nice,” Alicia murmurs. “Wait.” She yanks on Al’s hand to stop her from walking, and Al stumbles for a moment.

 

“What?”

 

“Look at that,” Alicia says. She drags them over to the edge of the road, to a tree. Alicia releases Al’s hand and stares intently at the trunk of the tree.

 

“What are you looking for?” Al asks.

 

“That’s blood,” Alicia says. She dips the toe of her boot into it. “It’s fresh.”

 

“Looks like we found something,” Al says. Her hands drop to her hips. “Guess that means we have to turn back.”

 

“Come on,” Alicia says. “Don’t be a wimp. This just means someone was definitely here, and they’re probably injured.”

 

“I like new people,” Al says, “but I’m not really in the mood right now. Honestly, I’m kind of tired – and you’re walking away.”

 

“Keep up,” Alicia calls over her shoulder.

 

“Alicia, hold on,” Al says. Alicia rounds another bend as Al runs after her. Alicia keeps the gun barrel in her hand now, and Al draws the revolver. The trees have gotten thicker, nearly blocking the sun out, and Alicia can’t wait to see where the road leads. “Did you ever consider maybe this road just connects one road to another?” Al says.

 

“I’ll be disappointed if that’s all it leads to,” Alicia says.

 

“What are you expecting?”

 

“Something exciting,” Alicia says.

 

“I’ve had enough excitement for a lifetime already,” Al mutters. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”

 

“I think there’s something –”

 

Alicia’s cut off by a loud _bang_ , and for half a second, she thinks Al has lost her mind and pulled the trigger on John’s revolver. But the revolver is still being held at her side. Bark explodes off a tree just behind Alicia. Alicia’s brain doesn’t register whatever Al yells – it just knows Al is yelling. Another shot is fired off, and Al’s body slams into Alicia’s, taking them both to the cement. The only reason Alicia’s head doesn’t smack against the ground is because Al’s hand cradles the back of her head in the moments before they hit the ground together. Al gets onto her hands and knees quickly, hovering over Alicia, and she stares back in the direction the shots came from.

 

“You have to run back,” Al hisses.

 

“What? And leave you? There’s no way in –”

 

Al clamps her hand over Alicia’s mouth, and they stare into each other’s eyes in silence for a moment. Alicia’s eyes are wide, scared even, and Al musters up a smile and nods.

 

“When I say to go, run,” Al whispers. “Don’t look back. I’ll be right behind you. Stay quiet.”

 

Al moves her hand off Alicia’s mouth, and Alicia immediately grabs Al by the back of the head and pulls her down. Al nearly loses her balance but catches herself on Alicia’s shoulders in the moments before their lips touch. Alicia’s fingers knot in Al’s hair, and she kisses her desperately before Al forces Alicia to let go.

 

“Stay low,” Al says. “Don’t lose sight of the road and _don’t stop_ until you reach John and Morgan.”

 

“Wait –” Alicia breathes. She cups both sides of Al’s face in her hands, but Al pulls her hands away.

 

“We’re sitting ducks,” Al says. “You need to go. I’ll cover you.”

 

Al scrambles to her feet, hauling Alicia to her feet with her. Al pushes Alicia in the direction they came from and adjusts her grip on John Dorie’s revolver.

 

“Al, wait!” Alicia says. “I love –”

 

She’s interrupted by another gunshot, and they both instinctively duck, shielding their heads with their hands, but the shot misses and hits the dirt a few feet away from Alicia.

 

“Go!” Al yells.

 

Alicia has no other choice. She’s armed only with a broken off piece of a gun barrel. Good for killing the dead at close range. Not good for killing people with guns from far away. So Alicia sprints off back the way they came. She ignores Al’s instructions of don’t look back and immediately looks over her shoulder. Al whirls around toward where the gunshots came from, raises John Dorie’s revolver, and fires off a shot, one-handedly. Al hurries, moving backward in Alicia’s direction, waiting for the return shot. Alicia rounds a bend before another shot comes.

 

Al shoots back.

 

Another shot, followed by a scream of pain. Alicia skids to a stop, heart hammering in her throat, and she turns back. She’s about to run back; her mind frantically tries to formulate a plan. She’ll reach Al – Al will be alive – and she’ll take the revolver and shoot down the fucker, whoever and wherever the person is. As Alicia takes her first step, Al comes flying around the corner. John Dorie’s revolver is in her right hand, and her left is pressed against the side of her neck. Blood spills from between her fingers, but Al waves the revolver wildly and shouts, “What are you fucking doing? Run!”

 

Al reaches Alicia before Alicia’s legs start working again, and Al loops her arm through Alicia’s and pulls her along. They run until John and Morgan come into view, and both John and Morgan tense at the same time, preparing for a fight. Al and Alicia come to a stop, both panting.

 

“You’re hurt,” Alicia breathes. She takes the revolver from Al and hands it to John. Morgan’s already trying to question them, but Alicia doesn’t hear a damn word out of his mouth. “Oh God. They shot you!”

 

“No,” Al says. She winces, hand accidentally shifting, and more blood leaks from between her fingers. “It’s a graze,” Al says. Alicia quickly presses her hand against Al’s and holds tight.

 

“Keep pressure on that,” Alicia commands. “You gotta get the bleeding to stop.”

 

“What happened?” John asks. He reaches for Al’s hand, taking her fingers and tilting the back of her hand toward the light. Alicia’s eyes drop from Al’s bloodied neck to the back of her right hand – the hand that stopped Alicia’s head from hitting the ground. It’s scraped to hell – practically skinned.

 

“Someone in there started _fucking shooting_ at us,” Al says through her teeth. “That’s what fucking happened, John! There’s someone in there!”

 

“Okay, let’s calm down,” Morgan says. “Alicia, keep pressure on that wound as we walk. Quickly. Walk quickly. John, watch our backs.”

 

“Oh my God,” Alicia says. Tears prick her eyes, but she impatiently blinks them back. This isn’t the time. “Your hand – your _neck_.”

 

“Yeah, the world must really fucking love me,” Al spits. “It just keeps shitting on me. Jesus fucking Christ! _Fuck_!”

 

“Try not to do that,” Morgan says. “If they’re following us –”

 

“I was fucking _shot_ ,” Al says, jaw clenching. “Swearing helps the pain.”

 

“Swear quietly, please,” Morgan says. “I’m trying to hail June and Luciana.”

 

Alicia watches the blood roll down Al’s neck, disappearing into her shirt. She doesn’t know how much blood is too much. How much blood can you lose before you die? They’re not going to be able to do a transfusion. For one thing, they don’t have the equipment, but what if they also don’t have a matching blood type? Alicia doesn’t know Al’s blood type. They don’t talk about stuff like that. Alicia’s lucky she knows her own blood type at this point.

 

“You’re looking awfully pale, Leesh,” Al says. “Don’t pass out or throw up on me now, got it?”

 

“I – I’m not going to,” Alicia stutters. Her hand is slick with Al’s blood; it’s still coming out of the wound, and they’re not anywhere near the truck stop. What if it doesn’t _stop_? Al got shot covering Alicia’s ass – Al got shot because Alicia wouldn’t turn back. Al may have injured herself crashing the plane and going back to the wreckage, but this one’s on Alicia’s stubbornness.

 

“How many shots did you fire?” John asks from the rear. Morgan continues to try to reach June and Luciana, though Alicia barely hears him speaking, as Al thinks about John’s question.

 

“Two,” Al says. “Yeah. Two.”

 

“Did you get ‘em?” John asks.

 

“I couldn’t even see them,” Al replies. “I was firing into the fucking void and hoping for the best.”

 

“Well, they could see you,” John says.

 

“Then they’re a terrible shot,” Alicia says shakily.

 

“Speak for yourself,” Al says.

 

“They were probably aiming for your head,” Alicia snaps.

 

“I’m so glad they missed,” Al says sarcastically. “The bullet only ripped through the side of my neck. Nothing too important.”

 

“Is it still bleeding?”

 

“Of course it is,” Al hisses. “Do you need a demonstration?”

 

“No! Don’t move.” Alicia takes a deep breath in hopes that it’ll make her feel less unsteady. She has a bad feeling she’s keeping most of the pressure on Al’s wound. “It wasn’t, like, spurting or anything, right?” Alicia asks.

 

“I think I’d be dead by now if it was,” Al replies. “I don’t know. I couldn’t tell how shallow it was. I was a little more concerned with getting the fuck out of there. June can tell you when she sees it.” Al pauses. “June’s gonna fucking kill me.”

 

“She can kill you after she saves your life,” Alicia says. She tries not to think about how her hand is sticking to Al’s, thanks to the blood, tries not to think about how her hand is absolutely coated in it, tries not to stare at the blood covering and drying on Al’s neck and chest – at least, what Alicia can see beneath the plaid shirt.

 

The truck stop comes into view, and Alicia urges Al along. Alicia wants to start screaming for help, but she knows that could do more harm than good, so she waits until they burst through the door.

 

“June!” Alicia yells. “We need help!” She maneuvers Al toward the booth, kicking Al’s cot out of the way with her boot. Alicia forces Al to sit on the table, all without disconnecting their hands from her neck. “June!” Alicia screams.

 

“Where are they?” Morgan asks. The front room is empty, and Morgan goes to confirm the radio room is empty as well. “Bathroom?” Morgan questions.

 

“I don’t know!” Alicia bursts. “We need June _now_!”

 

“What’s going on?” John asks. He steps fully into the truck stop, pulling the door shut behind him. He holsters both revolvers and pulls his hat off his head, setting it aside. “Where’s June and Luci?”

 

“Find them,” Alicia snarls. “Now!”

 

“Okay,” Al says gently. She swallows hard, face screwing up in pain, but she manages to continue, “Calm down. It’s okay.”

 

“It’s not okay!” Alicia shouts. “You’re bleeding!”

 

“I’m going to lose hearing in my good ear, too, if you keep yelling,” Al says. Their eyes lock. “I’m okay. Stop yelling at John and Morgan. They’re going to find them. Take a breath.”

 

Alicia’s eyes close momentarily as she inhales deeply. She tries to calm herself down as she exhales, both of her hands now pressing against Al’s hand on her neck, but her entire body has begun to shake.

 

“Don’t die,” Alicia blurts. “You can’t die on me.”

 

“June!” John bellows. Morgan returns from clearing the back of the truck stop, bathroom included, wearing a grim expression.

 

“I’m not going to die,” Al assures Alicia. She reaches up with her free hand, the back all bloody and raw, and grips onto Alicia’s bicep. “I’m okay,” Al says. Her voice is barely above a whisper, hard to hear over John’s screaming for June and Luciana.

 

“Morgan, calm him down!” Alicia calls. “I – I need your help with this.”

 

“We need to help Al,” Morgan tells John. “Then we’ll find them. I promise, we’ll find them.”

 

“Give me the radio,” John growls. He yanks it out of Morgan’s hand and rushes outside, desperately trying to contact June. Alicia peers through the window behind Al, watches John search the truck then head around to the side of the building.

 

“Morgan,” Alicia says. “Get the first aid kit – the – the suture kit. I – I think I’m going to have to do it.”

 

Morgan presses his lips together and nods curtly. “Get that bleeding under control,” he says. “Then we’ll figure out the stitching.”

 

“I can do it,” Alicia says. “I mean, I’ve done it before. Once.”

 

“It doesn’t have to be pretty,” Morgan says. He pulls the first aid kit free from its spot on the shelf above the coffee pot. He carries the kit over to the booth, sets it on the table beside Al, and pops it open. He grabs a wad of bandages and passes it to Alicia. Alicia and Al quickly lift their hands, jam the bandages against the wound, and apply pressure again. Al grits her teeth, eyes watering from the pain, and Alicia tries not to think about how they don’t have any anesthesia to work with. Just like when Luciana was hurt. No anesthesia.

 

“Your hand,” Alicia says. “I mean – Morgan, take care of her hand. Please.”

 

“My hand is the least of our problems,” Al dismisses.

 

“No, seriously. Please – hold this.”

 

Morgan rushes to take over for Alicia, setting a bottle of antiseptic back into the kit and pressing his hands against Al’s to keep pressure.

 

“Alicia! Where are you going?” Morgan calls.

 

Alicia flings the door open and jogs a few feet away from the truck stop. She’s lucky she pulled her hair up into that bun earlier. She hunches over, body heaving, though there isn’t much to come up. She spits onto the pavement, making a face, and keeps her eyes safely away from her bloodied hands. When she’s sure it’s just that one time, she heads back for the truck stop.

 

“You good?” Morgan asks when she reenters.

 

“Yeah,” Alicia says roughly. “Yeah, I’m – I’m fine.”

 

“I didn’t know blood bothered you,” Al quips as Alicia grabs a nearby bottle of water and pours water into her mouth. She swishes it around and pushes the door open to spit it outside.

 

“It normally doesn’t,” Alicia grunts, swiping at her mouth with the sleeve of Al’s shirt.

 

“Can you do this?” Morgan asks.

 

“Do I have a choice?” Alicia retorts. “What? Is John gonna do it? Do _you_ know how to stitch a wound up?”

 

“I’ve seen it done,” Morgan says, but he shakes his head. “But you’ve done it before.”

 

“Once,” Alicia reminds.

 

“Disinfect your hands,” Morgan says. “The antiseptic is right there. We’re going to have to disinfect the wound next.”

 

“One step at a time,” Alicia says. She pours antiseptic over her hands, uses it to wash away some of the blood, then passes it to Morgan to try to rinse out the wound. “Her hand,” Alicia reminds once he’s done with the graze wound. “Splash some of that on there.”

 

“My hand is –”

 

“Don’t argue,” Alicia snaps. She motions for Morgan to move out of the way and positions herself on the table beside Al. “Bandage her hand while I’m taking care of this,” Alicia orders. “You got the bleeding almost stopped.”

 

“Hang on,” Morgan says. He holds his hands in front of Al’s neck and explains, “I’m going to unbutton your shirt. Get it out of Alicia’s way.”

 

“Yeah,” Al says. “Do it.”

 

Morgan works swiftly, bundling the bloodied shirt up and tossing it aside. He moves on to bandage Al’s hand as Alicia continues to try to completely stop the bleeding.

 

“I need you to hand me things,” Alicia says. She peers at the wound, determines it isn’t very deep or long, for that matter. Definitely deep enough to require stitches, though. She gets to work, now confident in her ability to keep whatever’s left in her stomach where it’s at. Her stitching is sloppy, most likely going to leave a noticeable scar, but by the time she wraps it up, she’s satisfied that she’s done it properly. Alicia tapes a pad of gauze over the stitching after sloshing more antiseptic onto the wound. Alicia exhales heavily, letting her body relax. She leans into Al, placing her palm against the center of Al’s chest to brace herself even though it’s coated with a layer of sweat and half-dried blood.

 

“Nice job,” Morgan praises. “Get her cleaned up, okay? I have to go find John.”

 

“Be careful,” Al warns. “June and Luciana wouldn’t just take off like that.”

 

“I know,” Morgan says grimly. “I’ll be back soon.”

 

“You’re covered in blood,” Alicia says. She slides off the table and offers her hands to Al to help her down, but Al rejects the assistance and hops off herself.

 

“So are you.”

 

“It’s just my hands,” Alicia dismisses. “But your neck, chest, your arm –”

 

“It’s just blood,” Al says.

 

Alicia sighs. The tank top Al’s wearing has blood soaked into it, just like the plaid shirt. “You need new clothes,” Alicia finally says. “You can’t wear blood.”

 

“You have.”

 

“That’s different,” Alicia says. “That blood wasn’t mine.”

 

Al’s eyes search her face. “You sure you’re okay?” she asks. She touches the back of her good hand, the one not wrapped in bandages, to Alicia’s forehead. Alicia seizes Al by the forearm and pulls her arm away.

 

“I’m not sick,” she says. “I just – I don’t know. I couldn’t take it.”

 

Alicia uses the hold she has on Al’s arm to pull her in, plants her face against the unbloodied side of Al’s neck and loops her arms around Al’s back. She squeezes her eyes shut as her brain starts to attempt to process everything that’s going on. June and Luci are missing. Al was shot trying to cover Alicia’s ass – even if it’s just a graze wound, still. It came from a bullet.

 

“Alicia,” Al murmurs. Alicia’s fingers dig into Al’s back as she clutches at the tank top, and Alicia only remembers the bruising when Al lets out a small hiss of pain. She quickly releases her hold, but Al prevents her from jumping back, locking her arms around Alicia’s neck and keeping them together. “It’s okay,” Al says.

 

“Stop saying that,” Alicia whispers. “June and Luci are missing. John’s out there losing his shit. You got _shot_ because of me.”

 

“Whoa, that wasn’t your fault,” Al says. She rests her cheek against Alicia’s head, tightens her hold on Alicia.

 

“I should’ve turned back when you said.”

 

“You couldn’t have known.”

 

“If I would’ve just _listened_ –”

 

“You didn’t know,” Al insists. “Okay? This isn’t your fault. I’m not blaming you.”

 

Alicia presses her forehead against Al’s shoulder and exhales raggedly, struggling to keep any tears from falling. “You would’ve sacrificed yourself for me.”

 

“What?”

 

Alicia laughs bitterly, clinging to Al’s upper back so she doesn’t hurt her again. “You didn’t even realize it. You tackled me, shielded me, gave me the chance to run and got yourself shot in the process.”

 

“Oh. I guess I did.”

 

“And you didn’t even know you did it!”

 

“I knew,” Al says defensively. She rubs Alicia’s back soothingly and adds, “I just didn’t consciously think about what it meant.”

 

Alicia pulls back and stares into Al’s eyes. “I could’ve stayed back,” she says. “I could’ve stayed with June and Luci –”

 

“Then you might’ve been gone, too, and I would’ve been screwed,” Al says.

 

“You wouldn’t have gone that far down that road if I hadn’t been there.”

 

Al cups Alicia’s face in both her hands and says firmly, “Thinking about the _what ifs_ isn’t going to help us. I’m alive, you’re alive, and we’re going to find Luci and June, and we’re going to get the fuck out of this place, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Alicia says in a voice that’s barely audible. She clears her throat. “Let’s find you some new clothes.”

 

“You too,” Al says. “I know you just changed this morning, but you’re wearing my blood, too, and that’s kinda gross.”

 

“Al,” Alicia says, catching her arm before she can walk away.

 

“Yeah?” Al says, eyebrows raising.

 

Alicia inhales sharply. “Kiss me.”

 

Al doesn’t hesitate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm about to go out of state for some family things, so I'm not sure if I'll be able to watch Sunday's episode in a timely manner (but I'm definitely going to try!). I also can't be sure of when the next chapter will go up, but hopefully it'll be soon!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts/questions/concerns in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as I can! But seriously, I really appreciate all you guys sticking with this story so far. You're all amazing, and you're keeping me motivated.


	10. 10

Al leans back against the truck and watches Alicia wash all the blood off her hands. Once Alicia’s satisfied that they’re blood-free, she walks up to Al with the bucket of water and washcloth.

 

“You missed a spot,” Al says. She pokes her finger against Alicia’s cheek. “Let me get it.”

 

Alicia passes her the washcloth and lets Al gently wipe the small smear of blood off her face. Alicia quickly takes the cloth back, dunks it into the water, and rings it out. “You should just wash your hands off in the bucket to start with,” Alicia says.

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

Alicia makes a face and mumbles, “I’m not a _ma’am_.”

 

Al grins. “I know.” She pauses. “I shouldn’t get this bandage wet. Can you –”

 

Alicia drapes the washcloth on the edge of the bucket and kneels on the pavement beside it, carefully taking Al’s uninjured hand and washing the blood from it. She takes the cloth again and starts wiping the blood from Al’s arms before she gets back to her feet. Al, thankfully, keeps quiet – at least until Alicia reaches for the hem of her tank top.

 

“Slow down there,” Al says, grasping Alicia’s hand in her own. She smirks. “You have to ask before you do those sorts of things, you know? Consent is important.”

 

“Shut up,” Alicia says. “You’ve got blood all over you. I’m trying to help – it’s because you aren’t wearing a bra again, isn’t it?”

 

“I didn’t expect to get shot today, so no, I am not wearing a bra.”

 

Alicia sighs. “John and Morgan are –”

 

“Right around the side of the building,” Al finishes. “I’m not risking that.”

 

“Is it really that big a deal?”

 

Al laughs. “No. It’s not. I’m just messing with you. But I can undress myself, thank you very much.”

 

Alicia grabs Al’s wrist to stop her. “You could hurt your neck.”

 

“Taking my own damn shirt off?”

 

“Yeah,” Alicia says. “Just lift your arms. I’ll do it.”

 

Al smirks. “Or maybe you just want to be the one to –”

 

“Please stop talking,” Alicia interrupts. Then she mutters, “This isn’t how I want this to happen, so if you could stay quiet, I – just please stop.”

 

Al goes silent. Obediently, she lifts her arms and lets Alicia pull the tank top off. She takes pleasure in the way Alicia’s breath hitches in her throat, but Alicia pretends like Al isn’t half naked in front of her and wipes away the blood that ran all down her chest to her stomach as quickly as possible. She’s more careful around Al’s neck. Al turns her head to the side as best she can without straining the wound too much and stays quiet. Alicia keeps her eyes anywhere but at Al’s chest whenever possible, and the second she’s sure she got all the blood, she grabs the fresh tank top from the truck and pulls it over Al’s head. Al hums her discontent to herself – the least Alicia could do is _stare_ for a _moment_ , Jesus – but straightens the tank top out.

 

“I think that’s the best we can do,” Alicia murmurs. “You’re still pretty sweaty.”

 

“It’s hot as balls out here,” Al replies. She runs her hand through her sweat dampened hair and says, “And I got shot. Sue me. I’m allowed to sweat.”

 

Alicia doesn’t argue. She pulls her own shirt off and trades it for a fresh one. It’s basically the same shirt she’s wearing now but clean. Alicia frees her hair from its bun but immediately regathers her hair and pulls it back up.

 

“Hey,” Al says softly. She touches her fingertips to Alicia’s jaw. “You okay?”

 

“No,” Alicia says bluntly. Her eyes drop to the bandage taped to Al’s neck. “We should regroup with Morgan and John. Figure out the plan.”

 

Before Al can argue, Morgan and John round the corner. John’s hat is pulled low, and he walks with his head down. He goes straight into the truck stop, leaving Morgan by the truck with Al and Alicia.

 

“So?” Alicia says.

 

“No sign of Luci or June,” Morgan informs. “And we all know they wouldn’t leave without at least leaving a note.”

 

“No luck with the walkie?” Al asks.

 

“They’re either out of range or it’s off,” Morgan says.

 

“Or someone else has it,” Alicia says quietly. “Someone shot at us – shot Al. There are other people around here somewhere, and they aren’t friendly.”

 

“Don’t say that around John,” Morgan says. He glances back at the truck stop. “He’s a little sensitive right now.”

 

Alicia flinches, and Al drops her good hand on Alicia’s shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. “We can start searching,” Al offers. “You and John go one way, me and Leesh the other. See if there’s anything –”

 

“You’re in no shape to be doing much of anything,” Morgan cuts in. “And John is – he needs to calm down first. Let’s just do a thorough sweep of the truck stop and see if anything odd turns up. If we don’t find anything, we’ll head out first thing tomorrow once you’ve had a chance to rest a bit.”

 

“We should call Victor,” Alicia says suddenly. “Let him know what’s going on. Let him know that – that he might be coming out here to join a search party.”

 

Morgan nods. “You’re right. You talk to Victor. Me and Al are going to turn this place upside down.” He exhales and rubs at the stubble on his jaw. “I think it’d be better if we all slept locked in the radio room tonight,” Morgan says. “We’ll alternate watches, two people at a time. Hopefully Strand is close to reaching us, and we’ll be able to begin our search tomorrow.”

 

“You know where to begin,” Alicia says. “The road.”

 

“No,” Al and Morgan say together.

 

“You _know_ whoever’s up there had to have something to do with this,” Alicia says, shaking her head. “That makes the most sense.”

 

“You want me to get my head blown off this time?” Al questions. “They narrowly missed with this.” She points at her neck. “It’s too dangerous.”

 

“Look, I’m the reason they’re missing,” Alicia insists. “It’s our only real lead.”

 

“We can argue about this later,” Morgan says. “Alicia, call Strand. Update him. Al, let’s search the truck stop then get the cots set up in the radio room for tonight.”

 

“Alicia,” Al says once Morgan walks back inside.

 

“Hmm?”

 

Their eyes lock when Al says, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

 

“Stupid like what?”

 

“Like take off in the middle of the night to search for June and Luci,” Al says. “I know I did it, but –”

 

“I’m not going to,” Alicia says. “Besides, we’ll be on watch together. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

 

“Don’t get the idea that I’ll go with you,” Al says. “I learned my lesson last time.”

 

“We aren’t going to search on our own without Morgan and John,” Alicia promises. “The last thing we need is for those two to disappear while we’re gone, too.”

 

“And hey,” Al says. Alicia stops with her hand on the door handle. Al lowers her voice, just in case. “John lost June once already. Don’t be too hard on him, okay?”

 

“I’m not a monster,” Alicia says. She hesitates. “I know how I’d feel if – if it’d been you.”

 

Alicia goes inside before Al has a chance to reply, leaving Al no choice but to follow her in. Alicia goes straight for the radio room, bypassing John in the booth and Morgan digging through the drawers. There isn’t much to search, but Al goes inch by inch anyway. Morgan waits for Alicia to emerge from talking to Victor then searches the radio room as Al makes her way back toward the bathroom. She checks by the generator, finds nothing as expected, then humors herself and steps into the bathroom.

 

“Hey, Morgan!” Al shouts. She falls back against the doorframe, exhaling heavily. “Shit,” she says to herself. Two sets of footsteps rush down the hall, and Alicia and Morgan slide into view. Spray painted on the wall in bold, black letters is _LEAVE_.

 

“Someone wants us gone,” Alicia says flatly.

 

“But they took our friends,” Morgan says. “Whoever it is can’t seriously expect us to take off now.”

 

“It’s not a warning,” Al says. “It’s a threat.”

 

“Whatever’s at the end of that road…” Alicia begins, but she trails off.

 

“There are people at the end of that road,” Al says. “And they’re not interested in a friendly chat.”

 

“Do we tell John?” Alicia asks abruptly. “About that.” She nods at the spray paint.

 

“We can’t keep it from him,” Morgan says. “He’ll see it eventually anyway.” Morgan pauses. “I’m going to close the blinds. Let’s keep the lights in the front off at all times. Make it look like we’ve taken off.”

 

“Our truck’s out front,” Al says.

 

“Move it around back,” Morgan tells Alicia. “We’ll load all our necessary supplies into the radio room. Maybe whoever’s out there will think we’ve abandoned the place.”

 

“Unlikely,” Alicia says under her breath.

 

“Do you have a better idea?” Morgan asks. “We can’t leave now. June and Luci could come back.”

 

“I doubt it,” Al says. “They would’ve left a note, answered the radio, and _that_ wouldn’t be spray painted on the bathroom wall.”

 

“Why the bathroom?” Alicia blurts. “I’m sorry, but the front of the truck stop would be a better place for a message like that.”

 

“We don’t have time to analyze their logic,” Morgan says. “Let’s get the truck moved, the stuff inside. Let’s set up for tonight and get comfortable. It’s going to be a long one.”

 

Morgan goes to join John, leaving Alicia and Al standing in the doorway of the bathroom. “What’d Victor have to say?” Al asks.

 

“Daniel said no,” Alicia says. Her face is blank, and her eyes avoid Al’s. “He said no to Victor about the plane. Threatened to shoot him if he came back.”

 

“So now what?” Al asks. “He can’t drive the van. It’s too mountainy.”

 

“Mountainous?” Alicia suggests.

 

“Whatever. Same shit.”

 

“He’ll find a way,” Alicia says. “Especially now that Luci and June are missing.”

 

Al nods. “Let’s move the truck. Do as Morgan said and set up in the radio room.”

 

“We can’t stay here,” Alicia says. Her fingers brush against the back of Al’s hand, and Al turns her palm up expectantly. Alicia hesitates then pulls away, hugging her arms to her chest. “Where are the keys?” she asks.

 

They find the keys next to the coffee pot, and Al accompanies Alicia out to the truck. Alicia drives it around back, and together, Alicia and Al carry the most important supplies into the truck stop. Al winces every time she picks something up with her bandaged hand, and the third time it happens, Alicia yanks the bag away from Al.

 

“Stop it,” Alicia says. “You’re just hurting yourself more. I can take care of this. You should go lie down, take some of those pain pills.”

 

“I’m not taking any pills,” Al says. “As much as I’d love to get high right now, if we’re attacked, it’s better if I’m in my right mind.”

 

“I’ll protect you,” Alicia says simply. She slings the bag over her shoulder. “Go on. Go lie down. Keep John company. You’re better friends with him than I am anyway.”

 

“I know it’s hard,” Al calls as Alicia starts to walk away. Alicia stops walking but doesn’t turn back. “Luci’s your friend. She was Nick’s – she’s important to you. And June’s my friend. What I’m saying is, I get it. And I want to get them back as badly as you do. But I – I can’t risk your life to do that. I can’t imagine being in John’s position – or worse. I –” Al falters, and Alicia finally turns around.

 

“I know,” Alicia says. “Come inside with me. I can’t watch you hurt yourself anymore.”

 

Al sighs and follows after Alicia. She doesn’t argue when Alicia leads her into the radio room where four of the cots are arranged. The room’s much smaller than the front room, with the desk taking up most of the one wall. Alicia and Al’s cots are on the other side of the desk, side by side, the camcorder and Al’s folded up button down stacked neatly on the left cot. Alicia adds the gun barrel to the pile. The second cot, shoved up against Alicia’s, positioned beside the desk, has Al’s bloodied jacket tossed on top with the knife she borrowed from June this morning. Morgan’s cot is positioned next to the door, and John’s is directly across from the desk. While Morgan will only be able to see Al and Alicia’s legs from his cot, John will be able to look over and see them with no issues.

 

Since Al just stands in front of the cots, staring down at her jacket and the knife, Alicia places both items beneath the cot and takes Al by the arm. Al doesn’t need help lying down; she’s more than capable of doing that – even if her back still aches sometimes, and her neck feels like someone lit it on fire and left it to burn, and her hand feels raw like someone ran a potato peeler over it, and her hearing is shoddy at best in her left ear, starting to flicker in and out. Al allows Alicia to help her lie down on the cot anyway, settling on her back because that’s the easiest for her neck to handle even if her back doesn’t agree. Al exhales heavily and lets her banged up body relax.

 

“Where are you going?” Al mumbles.

 

Alicia’s at the door before she responds, “I have to help Morgan get John in here and get lunch-slash-dinner ready.”

 

“Morgan can’t handle John?”

 

“Apparently he’s not budging from the booth,” Alicia says. “I’ll be back soon. Just try to rest, okay?”

 

Al’s out before Alicia has fully left the room. When she comes back to, she hears the clanging of plastic silverware against metal cans and bolts upright. She hisses, instinctively reaching for her neck, and she draws all three sets of eyes to her.

 

“You alright?” Morgan asks. Alicia reaches over from her cot, gently touches her fingertips against Al’s thigh and continues chewing. Alicia’s hair is down from the bun, and the room isn’t oppressively hot like it’d been before.

 

“Yeah,” Al grimaces. “Sat up too fast. Forgot what happened.”

 

“We’ve got dinner,” Alicia says. She passes a can and a spoon Al’s way, and Al struggles to pop the top with her bandaged dominant hand. Thankfully, she gets it open before anyone else offers to help her and peers inside. Chicken noodle soup. Now if only she could heat it up. But Al won’t complain. John’s over on his cot alternating between green beans and corn, and Morgan’s eating some nasty looking mush, but at least he seems to enjoy it. Al finally fully looks over at Alicia, glumly eating some type of pasta with her legs crossed. Al almost cracks a joke to break the tension hanging in the air but decides against it, since all of the jokes she can think of start with _so who died_.

 

Al wolfs down the soup and somehow manages to be the first person done eating though she was the last to start. She accepts the bottle of water Alicia hands her and gulps down half the bottle in one go. She puts the cap back on and sets it up on the desk to her left. John gives up on his food, nudging both cans out of the way and settling onto his side facing the desk, thereby facing Alicia and Al. He stares vacantly somewhere near the underside of the desk, though, his hat resting on the floor beside his cot.

 

“Are you two okay with taking the first watch?” Morgan asks. “If not, I can always take it,” he says quickly.

 

“We’ve got it,” Alicia says. “Al had a nice nap. You two should rest for a while.”

 

“What time is it?” Al asks.

 

“Seven,” Alicia answers.

 

“That’s a little early…never mind,” Al says. “Goodnight.”

 

Morgan goes to sleep almost instantly, snoring softly, but John lies awake, unmoving, in the same position. Al lies back down and tries to ignore the throbbing in her neck and prickly-like stinging in her hand.

 

“Don’t fall asleep,” Alicia murmurs. She scoots back until she’s seated with her back leaning against the wall and reaches over, resting her hand on Al’s mostly bare shoulder.

 

“I’m up,” Al assures her. She shifts in an attempt to ease the strain on her neck but winces as she ends up making the pain worse in the process.

 

“You should take something,” Alicia says.

 

“It’ll just make me drowsy.”

 

“John and I can stay up if we have to,” Alicia says. “Right, John?”

 

“Yeah,” John says, voice rumbling in his throat. “If you need to rest –”

 

“I’m fine,” Al insists. “I’ve got this watch. You get some sleep, John.”

 

“I can’t sleep,” John grunts.

 

“Then keep us company,” Al suggests. She brings her left, uninjured, hand up to Alicia’s, still resting on her shoulder. Alicia turns her hand and allows Al to grasp onto it loosely. Al’s eyes drift up to Alicia’s face, to the mildly but pleasantly surprised look she’s wearing as Al holds onto her hand in front of John.

 

“Come on,” Al says. “It’s way too quiet in here. Morgan’s snoring is going to drive me mad. We need to talk about something.”

 

“Like what?” Alicia asks.

 

“What sports teams did you guys like?” Al questions. Alicia stifles a laugh, and a smile even flickers on John’s face. “Personally, I like the Dallas Cowboys and Stars.”

 

“Football and hockey?” Alicia says.

 

“What can I say? I have layers,” Al says, grinning widely up at Alicia. “What about you?”

 

Alicia chuckles. “The LA Kings and Lakers.”

 

“And you, John?” Al asks softly. For a moment, she thinks he isn’t going to answer. She holds Alicia’s gaze and considers asking him again.

 

“I’m an Astros fan myself,” John says.

 

“You from Houston, John?” Alicia asks.

 

He gives a small chuckle that dies out quickly. “Can’t tell you too much about myself in one night, now, can I?”

 

“I’m from Los Angeles,” Alicia offers. Al tightens her grip on Alicia’s hand, and Alicia squeezes back before letting go altogether and moving her hand to Al’s forehead. She pushes her hand back into Al’s hair, gently stroking her fingers through it. “I miss it sometimes,” Alicia admits. “But really I think I’m just missing a life I wasn’t allowed to have.”

 

After a few moments pass in silence, John whispers, “I’m not from Houston. I just like the Astros. I am from Texas, though. Lived my whole life here so far. Never left for very long.” As he exhales, he says, “What about you, Al? Where you from?”

 

Al laughs, quietly enough to not risk waking Morgan. “Not from anywhere in this area, that’s for fucking sure,” she says. “Dallas.”

 

“Dallas is a ways away, I’m afraid,” John says. “Practically on the other side of the state.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Do you miss it?” Alicia asks. She continues to comb her fingers through Al’s hair, and Al lets her eyes close. “Dallas,” Alicia clarifies.

 

“Not really,” Al says. “I never stayed in one place very long even before the dead walked. I grew up in Dallas. Went to lots of games as a kid. Became a journalist and…fucked off into the world. It’s just sheer dumb luck that I ended up back here when the dead rose.” Al grins, but it slides quickly. “I was visiting,” she sneers. “From oversees. I came back to spend a week with my parents, see the Stars play, and the next day…the shit hit the fan in Dallas. Should’ve taken those weird reports a little more seriously.”

 

“Wait,” Alicia says. “You were back from oversees? Where?”

 

Al’s eyes reopen. She feels John watching her more than she sees it, and she stares up into Alicia’s curious eyes.

 

“Iraq,” Al finally answers. “I was probably on one of the last flights out ever.”

 

“What were you doing out there?” John asks.

 

“I was a journalist,” Al says quietly. “There was a war going on.”

 

Al can tell Alicia has about a million questions she wants to ask, but Alicia stays quiet and drags her fingers through Al’s hair some more. Al didn’t anticipate talking about sports teams would turn into divulging some of the less savory parts of her past to Alicia and John Dorie simultaneously. She waits for the inevitable questions, if not from Alicia then from John, but after nearly two minutes in silence, she starts to think they’re going to let it slide. At least for now.

 

Morgan snores again to remind them he’s asleep, and John shifts onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. For a moment, Al thinks he’s finally going to sleep. Then he inhales deeply.

 

“So, under normal circumstances, I would never breathe a word about this,” John says, “but these are not normal circumstances. So anyway, June has a theory.”

 

“A theory?” Alicia questions. She takes her hand away from Al’s hair and rests her palm on Al’s shoulder instead.

 

“About you two,” John clarifies. “And she’s told me time and time again. She thinks if you two weren’t so goshdang stubborn – except she didn’t say goshdang, she used a different word – that you two would actually be really good for each other.”

 

Al’s eyebrows raise, and Alicia laughs in surprise. “Good for each other?” Alicia says. “Meaning –”

 

“As a couple,” John says. “She’s told me at least five times. But she thinks you two would never admit it to yourselves, let alone to each other.”

 

“Well, the joke’s on June,” Al says softly. She spares a glance at Alicia and breathes out, “We’ve been together for a little while now.”

 

John lets out a low whistle. He tears his eyes away from the ceiling to look over at Alicia and Al again. “So she was on the right track, huh?”

 

“Yeah,” Al says. She sighs heavily. “It’s stupid of me not to – not to tell any of you guys about it –”

 

“No,” John says. “I get it. You wanted the privacy.”

 

“Yeah,” Al murmurs. “Something like that.”

 

“Don’t worry,” John says. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

 

“Actually,” Al says, “we can let June know she’s right once we find her. If Alicia’s good with it, that is.”

 

“Of course,” Alicia says gently. She brushes the back of her fingers against Al’s cheek. John smiles, though it’s short lived, then grabs his hat off the ground.

 

“If you ladies don’t mind,” he says, lowering his hat over his face, “I’m going to try to scrape together some sleep before it’s my watch.”

 

John’s asleep within the next couple minutes, hands folded on his stomach, hat shielding his face. Once Alicia’s positive John and Morgan are both totally out, she grins down at Al.

 

“What?” Al says.

 

“You told John we’re together,” Alicia teases. “But I don’t remember having the _what are we_ conversation.”

 

Al’s eyes roll. “I didn’t know we needed to have a _what are we_ conversation since the world’s fucking over.”

 

Alicia gently knocks her hand against Al’s shoulder, but her joking demeanor drops. “How does your neck feel?” she asks.

 

“It’s fine.”

 

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Alicia says. Her eyes flick down to Al’s hand, wound in bandages. Alicia slides down so she’s lying on her side facing Al, and Al manages to roll to face Alicia, wincing as her neck protests. “Don’t hurt yourself,” Alicia whispers.

 

“I’m okay,” Al insists.

 

“Stop saying that.”

 

“It’s true,” Al says. “I mean, I’ve never been shot before –”

 

“It’s just a graze wound.”

 

“Whatever,” Al dismisses. “Same thing. But I’ve handled some nasty shit, okay? So when I say I’m fine, I mean it.”

 

Al reaches up with her good hand and brushes a lock of Alicia’s hair behind her ear. “I don’t believe you,” Alicia says, catching Al’s hand in her own. “You aren’t on any painkillers. Your stitches are a hack job at best. It’s my fault that you’re injured even more in the first place.”

 

“Hey, we talked about that,” Al says. “It’s not your fault.”

 

“It feels like my fault,” Alicia whispers. “The same way June and Luci not being here feels like my fault. And you _know_ John’s blaming me for it.”

 

“He knows if you were here with them, you’d be gone, too,” Al says.

 

“Maybe,” Alicia mutters. She inhales deeply then changes course. “You’re really gonna tell June?”

 

“And Luci. Victor and the others when we get the chance. So maybe we should have that _what are we_ discussion,” Al says, grinning lopsidedly.

 

Alicia rolls her eyes and pushes her hand against the center of Al’s chest. Al catches Alicia by the wrist, holds her hand there, as Alicia says, “We’re together. What more is there to talk about?”

 

“I don’t know,” Al muses. “Is it serious?”

 

“Shut up,” Alicia chuckles.

 

“What if they ask us how it happened? What do we tell them?”

 

“Maybe we should just skip to the factory part,” Alicia suggests. “After all the fucked up shit happened.”

 

Al laughs quietly. “You don’t want to tell them about all the other juicy stuff that happened before the factory?”

 

Alicia huffs. “Like how I tried to push you out of the van into the dead not long after we, like, made out?”

 

“Or how we made out in the bathroom when we were poisoned with antifreeze?” Al says. “That’s a fun one.”

 

Alicia smiles and lets her eyes close. “Maybe we should just start at the factory.”

 

“I’m sure June will press for details,” Al says. “But I can handle her. I’ll tell her all that fun stuff, and I’m sure you’ll tell Victor eventually.”

 

“What makes you so sure?”

 

“You won’t be able to help yourself.”

 

“Victor figured us out before we got to the factory,” Alicia says. “Earlier I told you he knew for sure, but I was lying. He’s suspicious, but he also thinks I’m, like, super straight. And he thinks you’re –”

 

“Super straight?”

 

“No,” Alicia snorts. “Quite the opposite, actually, but he thinks you’re way too mature and poised for me or something.”

 

Al busts out laughing. “Strand really doesn’t know me very well.”

 

“I think after my mother died, he – he’s having a hard time making friends again. Victor and my mother were – they were close. They understood each other.”

 

“Your mom was – I liked your mom,” Al says. “Even though I didn’t know her very well. I hoped – I hoped I’d get a chance to see her again, get the end of her story. I’d hoped the ending would be a good one.”

 

“Yeah, well, what’re you gonna do?” Alicia says. “People die.”

 

Alicia’s fingers curl into the material of Al’s tank top at her chest, so Alicia’s knuckles press against Al’s sternum.

 

“You know,” Al murmurs, “sometimes I – I’m happy my husband died before the dead had the chance to get to him.”

 

“I get it,” Alicia says. “Sometimes I think about how my dad – how he killed himself, and rather than being angry or upset about it, I’m relieved.” Alicia pauses then whispers, “Sometimes I wish we’d all died before any of this.”

 

Al cups Alicia’s face in her hand, strokes her thumb along Alicia’s cheek. “Do you still wish – do you still wish for that?” Al asks.

 

“No,” Alicia says. “Not when I’m with you.”

 

Al smiles wearily. “That’s sweet but also pretty fucked up.”

 

“I know.” Alicia inhales deeply. “But other times, when you aren’t around, or you’re busy or asleep, when I think about everything – everyone – that I’ve lost…sometimes I still wish none of this ever had to happen.”

 

“I get it.”

 

Alicia nods and pulls Al’s hand away from her face. “Hold me,” she mumbles, shifting over so she’s mostly on Al’s cot. She doesn’t know how John and June have been sleeping with two cots pushed together. It’s uncomfortable as hell with the metal frame digging into Alicia’s side as she presses her ear to Al’s chest. Al’s arms encircle Alicia, and Alicia rests her hand beside her face, against the swell of Al’s breast. Alicia closes her eyes and listens intently to the beat of Al’s heart in the relative silence of the radio room. Morgan’s snoring ruins the experience a little, but Alicia will take what she can get.

 

“My first serious boyfriend was Matt,” Alicia says. She feels Al’s body tense beneath her, but slowly, Al relaxes. She tightens her hold on Alicia, though. Al ignores the stinging in her and focuses solely on the sound of Alicia’s voice. “We dated in high school,” Alicia continues. “We graduated together. He was there when I was accepted to Berkeley. We had everything planned out. We were going to make it, no matter what. And then he got sick. I went to his house to find out what was going on, but he’d been bitten.” Alicia’s voice breaks, but she clears her throat and pushes on. “I didn’t know what it meant at the time. He told me to go, and my mom made me leave him behind. His parents would be home soon, anyway. It only hit me later that –”

 

She doesn’t finish her sentence. Al strokes the tips of her fingers up and down Alicia’s arm, doing her best not to touch Alicia with the rough fabric of the bandage. Al stays silent and waits for Alicia to find her voice again.

 

“Then there was Jake,” Alicia says. “At the Broke Jaw Ranch. His family was nuts, but he was – I don’t know how to explain it. I wanted to love him so badly. I think I convinced myself that I did. I don’t know. But he was bitten, too. In the arm. So Nick tried to amputate it, thinking it could save him.”

 

Al swallows hard as she feels tears soak into the tank top at her chest. “Alicia,” Al murmurs. “You don’t have to –”

 

“He bled out instead,” Alicia whispers. “And then he came back. I didn’t even – Nick had to tell me what happened.” Alicia sniffles and seems to pull it together. “I had a crush on this girl once,” Alicia says. “She was traveling with my family – her family was with my family. Her mom died early on, but her dad…he’s still alive, actually. You’ve met him.”

 

It clicks in Al’s brain. “Sal. Daniel Salazar.”

 

“Yeah,” Alicia says. “His daughter. Ofelia. She was probably around your age. She saved my life, and others, but she – she was bitten, too. I wasn’t there when she died, either. My mom told me.” Alicia pauses. “I told you every man in my life has died so far.”

 

“Except Victor,” Al says. “I remember.”

 

“But I think by saying that, it diminishes the fact that plenty of the women in my life have died, too.” Alicia exhales heavily. “You’re all I have left.”

 

“That’s not true,” Al says. “You said it yourself. You have Victor. Luci. Everyone at the factory.”

 

“Ever since my mom sacrificed herself for me, Nick, and Victor, I’ve been thinking – I’ve been thinking who I would and wouldn’t die for. And the only person I would die for…is you.”

 

“Alicia, I –” Al begins, but Alicia reaches up and gently covers Al’s mouth with her palm.

 

“You don’t have to say anything,” Alicia says. “I’m gonna wake Morgan for his watch. I think I just – I need to sleep.”

 

“Okay,” Al says, voice muffled by Alicia’s hand. Al expects Alicia to get up and manually wake Morgan and John up, but Alicia just yells Morgan’s name until he jolts awake.

 

“Your watch,” Alicia tells him. “Goodnight.”

 

She nestles back against Al’s chest, and Al keeps a tight hold on Alicia, like if she lets go, she’s going to disappear or something. It’s probably a half hour into Morgan and John’s watch – which they get through by playing I Spy – before Al finds herself drifting off. That itself is an accomplishment given the state Al’s body is in. The pain is unrelenting although not entirely unmanageable. Alicia’s presence is the only reason Al finally gets to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I haven't watched 5x04 yet, but I don't have high hopes for Al's reappearance. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed Chapter 10! I'm going to get started on Chapter 11, I promise. I cannot begin to gauge how long this project might end up being - honestly, I'm afraid it might last through all of season 5. 
> 
> I bumped the rating up just in case. I don't know if it's going to be necessary or not, but it's possible. 
> 
> Also I realized I didn't leave my tumblr before, the way I normally do, so you can find me at blinkaftermidnight.tumblr.com if you wish to. I'd love to have a chance to talk to you guys!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts/concerns/questions in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as I can!


	11. 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this written a lot sooner than I expected, so I hope you enjoy it!

This nightmare is particularly vivid. It was probably a bad idea to recount a good handful of the people she’s lost to Al before going to sleep. Alicia sees all their faces – and then some – once she falls asleep. She wouldn’t mind seeing them in her sleep, if they weren’t all dead versions of themselves. That’s just cruel. By the time Alicia’s roused from her slumber, all she remembers is the faces.

 

The last face she saw, of course, was Al's.

 

Al’s is the first face she sees when she wakes up. It’s obvious that Al herself has woken up only moments before, rubbing at her eyes with her bandaged hand. She holds onto Alicia’s arm with her other hand as Alicia props herself up so she’s hovering over Al on the cot.

 

“You okay?” Al says, voice rough with sleep. She touches the back of her good hand to Alicia’s cheek. “You’re warm. Sweaty.”

 

Al’s eyes study Alicia’s face, watches her struggle to breathe normally as Alicia clutches onto Al’s shoulder. She keeps her fingers away from the bandaged gunshot wound, and even though she can tell her grip’s causing Al some discomfort if not some pain, she can’t bring herself to let go.

 

“I – you’re alive,” Alicia says.

 

“Yes,” Al says gently. “I’m right here.”

 

Alicia becomes aware of Morgan and John’s presence in the room, but she can’t bring herself to care. Morgan missed out on Al’s little confession of their relationship, but Alicia figures he’ll catch on eventually. He’s a little more perceptive than John.

 

“It’s just –” Alicia says, swallowing hard, “a nightmare.”

 

“It’s okay,” Al assures her. She strokes the backs of her fingers against Alicia’s cheek then cups her cheek in her bandaged hand. Alicia closes her eyes and leans into the touch, relaxing her grasp on Al’s shoulder.

 

“I can’t go back to sleep,” Alicia whispers.

 

“We’ll take over watch,” Al says. Alicia opens her eyes in time to see Al motion to John, and he seems to understand that means _go to sleep_.

 

“What time is it?” Alicia asks. She shifts back, away from Al, mostly onto her own cot, and gathers her hair up in an attempt to cool herself off.

 

“It’s only around two,” Al tells her. Alicia watches Al use her elbows to get herself up into a seated position, trying to suppress her winces for Alicia’s sake, and Al sits herself back against the wall. “We got an early start, remember?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Alicia blurts. “For waking you.”

 

“Don’t be sorry about that,” Al dismisses. “I wasn’t exactly having the best sleep of my life, either.”

 

“That’s my fault.”

 

“Don’t blame yourself for my sleep problems,” Al says. She grins when Alicia looks over at her, but Alicia can’t manage even a small smile.

 

“Is it really hot or is it just me?”

 

“Well, I haven’t figured out if this is my sweat or yours,” Al answers. “Which is kinda gross.”

 

Alicia glances over at Morgan and John. John’s hat is over his eyes once more, and Morgan’s snoring is just kicking into gear. “Is it wrong of me to, like, take my clothes off?” Alicia asks.

 

Al’s eyebrows raise. “Morgan and John aren’t very heavy sleepers –”

 

“Stop!” Alicia hisses, fighting off a smile. Her heart hasn’t stopped pounding in her throat, but she’s starting to feel a little better. “I just need to cool down.”

 

“Then strip,” Al says suggestively.

 

“Stop it,” Alicia groans, pushing at Al’s arm. “And wipe that stupid grin off your face!”

 

“It’s only fair,” Al says. “You got to see me half naked today. The last time I saw you was forever ago.”

 

“Well, I did my best not to look.”

 

“And I was rightfully offended,” Al says. “C’mon, I was _right there_. And it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. You could’ve stared a bit. Made me feel better.”

 

“No,” Alicia says softly.

 

“Why not?”

 

“It didn’t feel right. Not like that. When we’re – when we aren’t outside and I’m not cleaning your own blood off of you, then I’ll stare.” Alicia pauses. “And besides, your attitude was irritating me.”

 

“My attitude?”

 

“Yes,” Alicia says. “So I didn’t stare at you. Sorry.”

 

Al shrugs then pokes at the bandage on her neck until Alicia leans over and pulls her hand into her lap instead. Now Alicia knows how Al felt while Alicia’s hands were wrapped with bandages. It’s kind of annoying. She absently plays with Al’s fingers and waits to see if she’s going to magically cool down as time passes. Of course she doesn’t, so after a few minutes, she sets Al’s hand down between them and yanks her shirt over her head. She uses it to wipe the sweat from her face, neck, and chest then tosses it to the end of her cot. She’s going to be sitting up on watch anyway.

 

“What’re you wearing a bra for?” Al questions. “The world’s over. Free the nipple or whatever.”

 

“Shut up,” Alicia laughs. “Don’t judge me. Besides, we are surrounded by straight men.” Alicia pauses. “Except maybe Victor. I haven’t figured out if he likes women or not. Either way, the point is, I’d rather just wear a bra.”

 

“You’re really passionate about undergarments.”

 

Alicia snorts. “No. I just don’t like being stared at because of my boobs.”

 

“So I shouldn’t stare at you? Because I can totally stare at John, no problem. I really like how he sleeps with his hat over his face.”

 

“Oh my God,” Alicia says, putting her face in her hands.

 

“What? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

 

“You are the one person that’s allowed to stare at me for any extended period of time,” Alicia says, grinning. Of course, Al’s eyes immediately leave John and lock onto Alicia. At least she starts at her face. Alicia appreciates that. Al’s eyes don’t stay there long, but Alicia can’t really blame her. It took all of her willpower earlier to keep her eyes off of Al while she wiped her blood off of her. Sure, she’s seen Al naked before – but still. It’s not like she’s gotten too many chances. Not with everyone else constantly lingering around at the factory, and definitely not with John and Morgan – and previously Luciana and June – all crammed into one room with them.

 

“You wanna talk about that nightmare?” Al asks.

 

“There’s not much to talk about,” Alicia mutters. “And you should maybe take your eyes off my boobs first if we are going to talk.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

Alicia smiles and takes Al’s hand in her own. “It was just – I don’t know. I was just seeing people. But they were dead, you know?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You don’t really know,” Alicia says. “You’re just pretending like you understand.”

 

Al smiles lopsidedly, locking eyes with Alicia. “I hate to break it to you, but I actually do understand. My dreams aren’t all sunshine and rainbows, sweetheart.”

 

“Yeah, but you don’t – they don’t bother you the way they bother me.”

 

“Because I wake up with other people,” Al says. “I know I’m not alone. Look, before, when it was just me in the van, I’d wake up screaming almost every night. But there was no one around to hear it. Once there were people…I don’t know. It just stopped. Not the nightmares, but the physical reaction to them.”

 

“Obviously that’s not working for me.”

 

“Well, people have different ways of coping with things.”

 

“No kidding,” Alicia grunts. Before the lull in conversation that follows becomes too long, Alicia says, “I’m sorry about dumping all that information on you.”

 

“That’s probably the last thing you should ever apologize for,” Al says. “And it’s not just because I’m a journalist. But I wish you’d let me be there for you rather than shutting me up.”

 

“I didn’t want to talk about it,” Alicia mumbles. “I just needed to get it out.”

 

“Okay,” Al says. “That’s fair. But now you have to listen to me, and we aren’t going to talk about it, either.”

 

Alicia’s eyes go to Al’s face, and she tightens her grip on her hand, but Al’s staring off into space somewhere now.

 

“I told you I have a dead husband,” Al says. “Told you he died before the outbreak. Told you I was married young. And I told you I was in Iraq right before the infection started spreading. I was there because I’m a journalist. That was my job. I told you and John I was in Dallas when the shit hit the fan because I was visiting my parents and seeing the Stars play and whatever, but really, I went back to attend my husband’s funeral in the days before the dead reached Dallas.” Al pauses and chews on the inside of her cheek for a few moments. “He died while I was oversees,” she says. “Doing my stupid job. Bringing the story to the people. And while I was gone, my husband died.”

 

“But not from the infection,” Alicia says quietly.

 

“No. It hadn’t reached Dallas yet. It was, um, it was something stupid, really. Surgical complications. He wasn’t supposed to die, but he did. I knew something was wrong when my mom called me an hour after he was supposed to be out of surgery. So I came back and went to the funeral and saw my parents, saw the Stars play. I was supposed to start figuring out my life as a widow – a _widow_ , and I was, what, fucking twenty-five? This shit started five years ago, yeah? So I was like twenty-five and now my whole fucking life was ruined.”

 

“And then the dead walked.”

 

“And then the dead walked,” Al says. Alicia squeezes Al’s hand tighter. She’s not upset in the way Alicia expected – Al’s more angry than anything. Alicia watches her contain it, though, and Al keeps her voice low enough that she doesn’t disturb John or Morgan. “I didn’t have to figure out too much, then,” Al says. “But I was alone.”

 

“What about your family?” Alicia asks before she can help herself. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that.”

 

Al waves her off. “My parents saw it for themselves in the streets when the police were still a thing. They saw the police empty a magazine into a guy’s chest, and the guy still kept walking, so they called me, told me to get the hell away from the city, and…” Al stops, shaking her head. She frees her hand from Alicia’s and pushes her bangs out of her eyes. Then she looks Alicia in the eye and finishes, “I found them dead in their house. Overdose. I was mad, but now, I can’t blame them. They were retired. They at least got to die the way they wanted, and they were together.”

 

“Surely you had other people,” Alicia says. “I have more dead family members than I can count.”

 

Al chuckles. “Yeah. I don’t. I can count them all pretty easily. My parents. My husband. My brother, his wife, and their kid.” Al stops again, lips parted, and Alicia can’t tear her eyes away from Al’s face. She can’t read whatever’s there, but she doesn’t like what she’s seeing. “I have videos,” Al says. “Of all of them, of course, but of my niece. She was the sweetest little kid, you know? Not even two years old when the infection hit Dallas. And my brother – he lived in the city. There was nowhere for him to go, and when his apartment building got overrun…”

 

“Al,” Alicia says. “You don’t have to do this to yourself.”

 

“No, you don’t get it,” Al says. Their eyes lock again, and Alicia balks at the raw emotion in Al’s eyes, the tears that brim but don’t fall. Al grits her teeth but manages to say, “I’ve seen a lot of shit over the years. The most horrific sort of injuries and deaths you can imagine, but this – I went searching for them, and I got to their place, and –”

 

“Okay, stop,” Alicia cuts in. She slides herself closer, brings her hand to Al’s face as Al’s eyes close. Al’s entire body shakes, but her hands are clenched into fists. She doesn’t resist when Alicia pulls her toward her, guides her until Al’s head rests against Alicia’s shoulder. Alicia pushes both of her hands into Al’s hair, holds on because, honestly, she doesn’t know what else to do. She doesn’t think there’s anything else she _can_ do.

 

“How could I watch those videos of the people I loved being happy when I know how it ended?” Al says raggedly. “How could I ever let someone _else_ watch that? Because you and I both know how all these stories end, Alicia. We know how our own stories are gonna end.”

 

“We don’t,” Alicia insists, even as her mind flickers back to her mom. To Nick. “Come on. Lay down with me.”

 

“You should put your shirt back on first.”

 

“It’s too hot for that,” Alicia says. “Especially if you’re going to be laying on me.”

 

Al doesn’t argue. She takes up a position much like Alicia’s from earlier, ear pressed to the center of Alicia’s chest, and Alicia continues to stroke her fingers through Al’s hair. Alicia doesn’t bother to lie to Al – to tell her _it’s okay_ or _our stories won’t end with the dead’s teeth in our flesh_. Those kinds of words might work for Alicia, but Al sees right through the bullshit. So Alicia just holds on.

 

“Are you in pain?” Alicia finally asks.

 

“What kind?”

 

Alicia flinches. “Physical.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You should take something.”

 

“I don’t need to.”

 

“Can I help?” Alicia blurts. “Is there anything I can do? Anything. Shoot for the moon, and I’ll –”

 

“Alicia, you’re doing it,” Al assures her. “Just calm down. Your heart’s, like, going to explode. I can hear it.”

 

Alicia nods to herself. She’s got this. But at the same time, she can’t erase the mental images of the end Al’s baby niece surely met. Alicia hisses as Al’s hand flattens against her bare stomach, being much cooler than she expected, but she doesn’t let Al pull away.

 

“Is it me?” Al asks.

 

“Huh?” Alicia says. She feels Al’s smirk more than she sees it, and Alicia regrets asking for clarification.

 

“Is your heart beating so fucking fast because of me?”

 

“Shut up,” Alicia grumbles. “It’s because my nightmare traumatized me, then I woke up and – never mind. Point is, it’s definitely not you.”

 

“No, it’s me,” Al says. She traces her fingertips down Alicia’s side until she hits the waistband of her pants then immediately drags them back up to Alicia’s ribcage. “It feels like we haven’t been alone in years.”

 

Alicia scoffs. “It’s been a week, Al. Calm down.”

 

“We haven’t been out here a week.”

 

“I didn’t mean – wait, we aren’t talking about the last time we had sex?”

 

Al laughs, turning her face and muffling the sound against Alicia’s chest before it wakes Morgan or John. Alicia’s face heats up as she tries to think of what Al would’ve been referring to if not that.

 

“I mean, I was thinking more of the last time we were in a room alone together with access to a bed, which was the night before we flew out here, and that was less than a week ago.”

 

“No,” Alicia says. She barely suppresses a shudder as Al’s fingers glide back down her side again. “You were definitely talking about sex. Don’t lie.”

 

“Well,” Al says. Al rolls so her body’s over Alicia’s, propping herself up on her forearms, and she grins nastily down at Alicia. “I actually wasn’t, because my hand, neck, and back are in no kind of shape for that, and I don’t want to risk giving up all the progress I’ve made with my ear. I can almost hear properly. I don’t need you to scream and –”

 

Alicia’s hand clamps over Al’s mouth as her face blazes red, and under usual circumstances, she would’ve already shoved Al off the cot onto the floor. She feels Al’s grin beneath her hand, and Alicia loses all the insulting words she was going to hurl at Al when their eyes lock. Al’s eyes are soft. Warm. Playful, even. Alicia can’t bring herself to crush that, even if Al’s taking way too much pleasure in making Alicia’s face burn red like a tomato.

 

“You’re not funny,” Alicia finally manages to say. Her hand falls away as Al grins wider. “John could’ve heard –”

 

“John’s asleep,” Al dismisses. “You’re just embarrassed because you know it’s _true_.”

 

“Stop it!” Alicia whines. She weakly pushes at Al’s shoulder but slips her arm around Al’s neck when Al lowers herself, capturing Alicia’s lips with her own. Alicia wastes no time and plants her hands at Al’s waist, tugging Al’s tank top up in an attempt to give her some sort of substantial skin to skin contact.

 

Al pulls back and teases, “Morgan and John are right there.”

 

“Morgan and John are asleep,” Alicia hisses.

 

“I’m not wearing anything underneath this.”

 

“Well, then John’s going to see you naked if he wakes up. Oh well. I’m sure you’ll get over it.”

 

Al grins. “You’re very pushy.”

 

“You like it.”

 

“Well, you had a chance to stare at me earlier, and you decided to be on some sort of moral crusade and purposefully _didn’t_ look, so I think maybe I should just keep it on.”

 

“Now _you’re_ going on a moral crusade?” Alicia groans.

 

“You were the one who wouldn’t just fucking stare at my chest because I had blood on me!”

 

“Your blood!” Alicia snaps. “It was your blood because I got you _shot_. I wasn’t going to stare at your boobs!”

 

Al’s lazy grin just makes Alicia fume more until Al says, “If our roles had been reversed, I would’ve stared. Blood or no blood. I’m just saying. You chose to miss a golden opportunity.”

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Alicia growls, “and fucking kiss me.”

 

“Aggressive,” Al chuckles. She leans back in as Alicia’s fingers dig into the back of her neck, trying to urge her along.

 

“This isn’t a game.”

 

“Sure it is,” Al says. “We both know this is going nowhere. John and Morgan are literally five feet away. And I’m incapacitated.” Al holds her bandaged dominant hand in front of Alicia’s face and wiggles her fingers. “I skinned the back of my hand to stop your head from splattering against the concrete.”

 

Alicia flinches. “You know I feel bad about that, too.”

 

“Worth it,” Al says. She dips down to quickly press her lips to Alicia’s throat. “Ouch. Careful,” Al says, reaching back to move Alicia’s hands away from her neck. Alicia sighs and grabs onto Al’s biceps instead, but she gives up and pulls Al down on top of her. Al nestles her face against Alicia’s neck, and Alicia secures her arms around Al’s upper back. “If you want to try,” Al mumbles, “you’re going to have to give me some time to adjust to being left handed. And you have to be _silent_.”

 

Alicia lets out a low groan. “You know I can’t do that. Don’t tease me.”

 

“Hey, I offered,” Al says. She lifts her head, presses her lips to Alicia’s jaw then trails kisses down Alicia’s throat to the center of her chest.

 

“I know you’re hurting yourself,” Alicia says.

 

“Then make it worthwhile.”

 

“No, you need to stop straining yourself.”

 

Al huffs. “What happened to horny Alicia from two minutes ago?”

 

“Practical Alicia took over when you took too long.”

 

“Practical Alicia is no fun.”

 

“You’re going to bust your stitches if you aren’t careful,” Alicia warns. “And I don’t really want to have to stitch you up again.”

 

Al drops her head against Alicia’s chest. “Fine.”

 

“You’re crushing me.”

 

“Good. Now you know how it feels.” Alicia shifts beneath Al’s weight, but Al moves back and motions for Alicia to roll. Alicia complies, leaning back into Al as Al’s arm locks just beneath Alicia’s chest. Al drops her forehead against the back of Alicia’s shoulder, and Alicia chews on her lower lip.

 

“Just take your damn shirt off already,” Alicia hisses. She can feel Al’s silent laughter against her back.

 

“Fine,” Al agrees. “In a minute.”

 

“Why?” Alicia complains. “By the time you get your ass moving, our watch is going to be –”

 

“I love you too.”

 

Alicia freezes. Her muscles tense, but she instinctively relaxes when Al’s lips press to the back of her neck. “What?” Alicia whispers.

 

“I love you too,” Al repeats. “I should’ve said it a hell of a lot sooner, but –”

 

“Stop,” Alicia says. She pushes Al back enough so she can roll to face her, and Alicia grins widely. “You mean it?”

 

“Obviously.”

 

Alicia laughs, pushing her hand against Al’s chest. “I hate you.”

 

“We just established that that’s not actually true for either of us,” Al points out.

 

“God, we’re gonna be worse than John and June,” Alicia giggles. She kisses Al before she can reply and slips her hand beneath Al’s tank top, holding onto her bare waist. Alicia can’t wait anymore. She pushes her hand farther up Al’s shirt, tracing her tongue along Al’s lower lip. Al holds onto Alicia’s hip and rolls on top of her just as John clears his throat.

 

“Um. I’m awake now,” John says. “I don’t know what I’m hearing, but my hat’s still over my face, so I can give you a minute.”

 

Alicia looks at Al while wearing the most mortified expression ever, and Al busts out laughing, clutching onto Alicia’s waist as she drops her forehead against Alicia’s shoulder.

 

“We’re not doing anything, John,” Al calls. “But just wait a second.”

 

Alicia’s mortification is quickly replaced with frustration as Al detaches herself from Alicia and tosses her shirt at her chest. Al stands, rubbing at her neck until Alicia springs up and yanks her arm away again before straightening her shirt out.

 

“You’re good, John,” Alicia grumbles.

 

“I’m really sorry,” he says, pulling his hat from his face. He sets it on his head as he sits up and finally turns his gaze on Alicia and Al. Al waves his apology off, and Alicia shrugs but still wears a disgruntled look.

 

“I need pee,” Al announces. “So if I get murdered when I step out of this room –”

 

“That’s not even funny,” Alicia cuts in. “There’s no one else in the truck stop but us. Just go pee and come back quickly.”

 

Al bends over and snatches up Alicia’s gun barrel. “I’m not taking any chances,” she says. “I’m not getting jumped in the creepy spray painted bathroom.”

 

Alicia rolls her eyes but stands at the radio room’s doorway, peering out into the front room as Al walks over to the other hall that contains the bathroom. Alicia stands with her arms crossed over her chest and listens to Morgan snore away as John sits on his cot and inspects his revolvers. Normal three in the morning kind of activities.

 

“What are we going to do?” Alicia asks.

 

“What?” John says. “You mean about June and Luci?”

 

“Yeah,” Alicia says.

 

“We’re going to search for them,” John grunts. “Do whatever it takes to get them back. Luci still isn’t fully healed, and June…you know I just worry about June. The same way you worry about Al, I bet.”

 

Alicia hums. “Yeah. John, I’m –”

 

John holds his hand up. “Don’t apologize. You couldn’t have known, and besides, if you would’ve been here, chances are, me, Morgan, and Al would’ve come back to find you all missing. I’m glad to have you here with us. It raises our chances of finding them quickly.”

 

“They’re up that road,” Alicia says quietly. “I know it.”

 

John sighs. “I have a feeling you’re right.”

 

“Then we need to go after them. Before the sun rises.”

 

“Sunrise is still hours away,” John muses. “And we’ve had as much sleep as we’re gonna get, I’m afraid. But we’ve got to get Morgan on board.”

 

“We’ll get him on board,” Alicia assures John. She turns her eyes back to the front room and watches Al emerge from the hallway. Al scans her surroundings, propping the gun barrel against her shoulder, pointed edge upward, but she stops when her eyes hit the glass front door. She glances over to where Alicia’s waiting but walks toward the front door instead, peering outside.

 

“Leesh,” Al says warily, “you might want to come see this.”

 

Alicia motions for John to follow then jogs over to the front door. “What’s going on?” she questions.

 

“That,” Al says. She steps aside to let Alicia get a better view. John pops up behind them, bracing his hands against the revolvers at his hips, and stares out the door over Alicia’s shoulder.

 

“What the fuck?” Alicia says.

 

“They know we didn’t listen to their warning, that’s for sure,” John says. “That’s a real mess for us to clean up.”

 

Alicia slips her hand into Al’s, holds onto her fingers rather than her bandaged palm, and stares with her jaw hanging open out the front door. The parking lot is littered with what must be hundreds of dead heads, all snapping their jaws despite their inability to move. The heads start just outside the door and stretch all the way to the opposite end of the parking lot.

 

“We need to get moving,” Alicia decides. “Dispose of the heads then go back up that road and get Luci and June.”

 

“And then what?” John asks. “We still don’t have a way out of here.”

 

“I’m going to wake Victor up,” Alicia says. “I don’t care if he doesn’t have a fucking plane. He’s getting in the first car with a full tank he can find and driving his ass out here to pick us up. Once we’ve got June and Luci, we go and we get our home back from Logan.”

 

“That’s a vague plan,” John says.

 

“Well, our detailed plans always fall through, so I thought I’d try something different,” Alicia mutters. “Get June’s knife,” she tells Al, tugging her back toward the radio room by the hand. “I’m gonna need that barrel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I included the bit about Al having a baby niece because, if I’m remembering right, when she watches the tapes in 4x16, there’s a baby and I filled in the gaps.
> 
> I don’t know about you guys, but in these days leading up to 5x05, which is looking like it’ll be a mostly Al centered episode, I’m getting very worried about Al’s fate. Anyway, I’d just like to assure everyone that I’m not planning on ending this on a super depressing note, no matter what goes down in the show. Also, it’s possible 5x05 will inspire me to write more side projects lol. Anyway, as always, thanks for reading! I’d love to hear your thoughts/questions/concerns, and I’ll respond as quickly as possible!


	12. 12

Al sits on the edge of the desk as Alicia talks to Victor. He’s not particularly happy about being woken up at almost four in the morning, but once Alicia tells him the truck stop’s parking lot is filled with decapitated heads of the living dead, Victor stops being so grumpy.

 

“We’re running out of time,” Alicia says.

 

“Well, it’s a no on the plane,” Victor replies. “A hard no. Daniel fired a warning shot and told me the next one would go through my skull. I believe him.”

 

“Get a car, something that can handle the terrain, and come get us,” Alicia says. “We’re going to have to clear out the heads then begin our search for June and Luci. We can’t wait anymore.”

 

“I agree,” Victor says. “But I can’t search for a vehicle in the middle of the night. As soon as the sun rises, I’ll take Charlie with me.”

 

“There’s six of us,” Alicia reminds him. “Plus you and Charlie. Don’t roll up in a five seat sedan.”

 

Victor laughs into the radio. “Noted. Take care of yourself, Clark.”

 

“You know I will.”

 

“And take care of the rest of the idiots.”

 

Al leans over and replies, “The rest of the idiots are right here.”

 

“Well, try not to die,” Victor suggests. “And find June and Luci. Keep a walkie on you. I’ll let you know once I’m in the area.”

 

“Thanks, Victor.”

 

“Anything for you,” he says.

 

Alicia shuts the radio off and turns her gaze up to Al. “You ready?” Alicia asks.

 

“No,” Al says. “There’s at least a hundred heads out there.”

 

“John and Morgan have already started,” Alicia dismisses. “So there’ll probably only be about, I don’t know, seventy left.”

 

Al cracks a smile and slides off the desk. “Let’s go help them finish it up.”

 

“We always have to do most of the work,” Alicia jokes. She jabs Al in the side, but Al just wraps her arm around Alicia’s neck and pulls her into her. “We’re going to have to change your bandages before we go,” Alicia adds. “I have to check on your wounds. Make sure they aren’t getting infected.”

 

“They’re fine,” Al assures her. “But yeah, whatever, change the bandages and pour antiseptic on them again. After we get rid of the heads. Those things are fucking creepy.”

 

“Be careful,” Alicia warns, touching her fingers to Al’s stomach. “They can still bite.”

 

“Can you imagine?” Al snorts. She holds the door for Alicia and follows her outside. “Getting bit is one thing, but getting bit by a decapitated head? That’s just lame.”

 

Alicia jams the end of the gun barrel into the nearest head and lifts the head up, making a face. “Just don’t get bit,” Alicia says. Al watches Alicia lower the head back to the ground and use her boot to hold it down so she can free the gun barrel. She kicks the immobile head toward the pile John and Morgan have already started at the end of the lot, and Al shakes her head. She can’t imagine someone transporting a hundred dead heads, with their fucking clacking teeth, and dumping them all around the parking lot of the truck stop. It’s just so…stupid. Nonetheless, Al picks a head and stabs June’s knife through its ear. Its jaw stops snapping, and she carries the head on the knife blade over to the pile and shakes her blade free.

 

This is exactly what she wants to do at four in the morning before the sun has risen. Al mentally chastises herself for bothering to look out the door on her way back from the bathroom. She could’ve spent the rest of the night on the cots with Alicia, but no, she _had_ to look outside. She spears another head on the knife but releases the hilt once its dead so she can flex her hand. She rubs at the bandaging over the back of her hand, wincing at how raw it still feels. She picks the knife back up with her left hand and flings the head onto the steadily growing pile. Between Morgan’s stick and Alicia’s barrel, the parking lot is quickly being cleared of heads. Al just tries to keep up.

 

Al considers, for half a second, retrieving the camcorder and filming some of this. For that half a second, she feels that familiar urge to capture everything. But then it passes. She stabs another head with her left hand, now that she has properly irritated her right hand, and she realizes she’s the slowest one out here. Morgan and Alicia have made it a competition, and they’re yelling out their number of kills every time they stab another one.

 

“That’s thirty-six, Alicia,” Morgan calls, flicking another head off the end of his stick. “You’re falling behind.”

 

“Thirty-one!” Alicia retorts. “I’m catching up fast, old man.”

 

Morgan’s eyebrows raise, but he smiles and shakes his head. “Watch yourself, young lady,” he teases. He jabs another head onto his stick and adds, “Thirty-seven.”

 

Al makes her way over toward the side of the truck stop where John quietly disposes of heads with one of the spare knives laying around. He looks up at she approaches and manages a smile.

 

“Al,” he greets.

 

“So how many have you killed?” Al says, nodding toward Alicia and Morgan.

 

John chuckles. “Oh, I’m not counting. But let them have their fun.”

 

“Thirty-seven!” Alicia shouts. “You better hurry up!”

 

Al stands beside John with her arms crossed over her chest, the blade of June’s knife carefully resting against Al’s side. John kills the last head on this side of the lot and lifts it up.

 

“Are you worried?” John asks.

 

“About what?”

 

“What we’re gonna find up that road.”

 

Al breathes in deeply. “Well, someone shot me,” she reminds, “so yeah, I’m a little worried. You and I both saw what happened with Nick. I don’t want to die like that.”

 

“For Alicia’s sake or your own?” John asks.

 

“Both,” Al grunts.

 

“That’s why we’re going before sunup, though,” John points out. “Maybe they won’t see us.”

 

“I’d say maybe they have a sniper, but if that’s the case, they’re not a very good one,” Al says. She watches Alicia kill another head and gleefully throw it onto the pile. Morgan says something that gets them both doubling over with laughter, and neither of them seem to notice that Al and John have stopped helping.

 

“Unless they weren’t trying to kill you,” John says.

 

“Then they’re stupid,” Al says, grinning. “I’m pretty sure they’re just not a great shot.”

 

“That works in our favor, then,” John says gruffly.

 

Al pauses. “We’re going to find them. You know that, right?”

 

John looks over at her, wearing a solemn expression. “That’s what I’m choosing to believe,” he says softly. “Because I don’t know what I’m gonna do if we don’t.”

 

“We’ll keep looking until we do,” Al says firmly. She uncrosses her arms and grasps onto John’s forearm. “We’ll find them.”

 

John tips his head forward in a nod and smiles. “Thanks, Al.”

 

“Don’t thank me,” she says, knocking her fist into John’s bicep. “We’ve got this. You’re going to get her back.” Al clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “ _We’re_ going to get both of them back.”

 

“I forgot what it was like,” John murmurs, “to be without her for so long. I got too comfortable.”

 

“I can’t blame you,” Al says. “I know if it was Alicia…”

 

John heaves a sigh and lifts his hat with the hand not holding the head on the knife. He plops the hat onto Al’s head then runs his hand through his hair. Al looks at him in disbelief then adjusts the hat so it doesn’t block her vision.

 

“Hold that for a sec,” John says, ruffling his own hair. “So, uh, I guess I’m going to intrude a bit, because June isn’t here to, um, speculate with me.”

 

Al smirks. “You want to know about me and Alicia.”

 

“A little, yeah,” John admits. “I just can’t believe I didn’t see that coming.”

 

Al laughs. “John, I’m sorry, but you are not the most observant person on the planet, and there’s not very many people left, so that’s saying something.”

 

“Well, I know that, but I spend every day with you two, and I never – where were the signs?”

 

“I hid them,” Al mutters. “And I asked Alicia to hide them.”

 

“Even so,” John says. “You can normally tell. June did.”

 

“Because June is _very_ observant. I think it’s because she’s a nurse – or maybe she’s a nurse because she’s so damn observant. So I guess in a way that makes you two a good team.”

 

“I’m lost without her,” John says.

 

Al removes John’s hat from her head and smacks it back down on his. “Yeah,” she says. “I know the feeling.”

 

“I won!” Alicia announces. She jumps up and down with the last head on the end of her barrel, grinning ear to ear, and Al laughs as Alicia’s jumping turns into a little victory dance.

 

“You cheated!” Morgan exclaims.

 

“I did not,” Alicia sings.

 

“I would’ve never once thought you two would ever get along,” John says. “She tried to kill you so she could kill Charlie.”

 

“It happens,” Al says. She exchanges a smile with John then adds, “She was different then. I don’t know what happened, honestly.”

 

“You were different then, too,” John says softly. “You guys changed each other for the better. I mean, look at her. She’s _dancing_ in a parking lot at four in the morning because she killed more decapitated heads than Morgan. You can’t tell me for one second that you don’t think you had a hand in that.”

 

“Well, I don’t know what I did.”

 

“You stuck around,” John says. “You were there when her brother died. You forgave her for trying to kill you. You were the one by her side when we were all poisoned with antifreeze. You were there, plain and simple – and you still are. She found someone she can be herself with, and now it’s starting to leak out for the rest of us to see.”

 

“Take that!” Alicia laughs. She adds the last head to the pile, and John steps away to quickly add his as well before Morgan lights it on fire. John returns to Al as the stench of burning, decayed flesh hits the air.

 

“June’s crazy for you,” Al says. “You know that, right?”

 

“I had an idea, yes,” John says, cracking a smile, “but it’s always nice to hear it from someone else, especially June’s closest friend.”

 

Al opens her mouth to argue, but she realizes he’s right. John is June’s partner, and while they’re friends, June’s closest friend outside of her relationship must be Al. Al mentally runs through the list of all the people at the factory and comes to the same conclusion. Al and John watch the fire burn bright, and Al considers that maybe lighting a giant fire in front of their current shelter isn’t the smartest thing to do. But then she realizes it doesn’t really matter. Morgan heads back inside to pack up, and Al has a feeling they won’t be coming back.

 

“How’re you feeling?” John asks. “Since the plane crashed, you’ve gotten pretty beat up.”

 

“That’s just the world shitting on me,” Al says. “After, what, almost a solid five years of minimal injuries during the end of the world, I guess it’s hitting me all at once.”

 

“Well, your back and your ear should at least be healing up,” John says. “Right?”

 

“Yeah,” Al says. “My back’s still sore, but my hearing’s starting to come back, so I’m taking that as a good sign.”

 

“I’m sorry,” John says abruptly, “for not being in there while you were injured.”

 

“It’s okay,” Al dismisses. “Seriously. I already had Alicia and Morgan crowding me.”

 

“You were there when I got shot,” John says. “You’re part of the reason I’m still alive.”

 

“That’s a little dramatic,” Al says. “June did the heavy lifting. All I did was apply pressure.”

 

“I would’ve bled out if you hadn’t.”

 

“Probably,” Al admits. “Though, to be fair, Alicia shot you. And she was aiming for June, so I don’t think that makes it much better.”

 

“But she’s different now,” John says gently. “We all are, in some ways.”

 

“Yeah,” Al grunts. “We’re all getting soft.”

 

John laughs but doesn’t disagree. “Mostly in the gut,” he jokes, patting his stomach. “Being in a well-fortified factory kind of encourages you to let up on your workout routine.”

 

“Speak for yourself,” Al says. “I’m in the best shape of my life. I’ve only stopped because every time I turn around, I collect another injury.”

 

“Maybe your luck will turn around.”

 

“Let’s hope,” Al mutters. Alicia starts to back away from the waning flames, heading in John and Al’s direction. Her previous giddy demeanor has faded back into her more typical serious one, but she can’t hide her smile when she reaches Al. “So you won,” Al comments, flashing a grin.

 

“I sure as hell did,” Alicia confirms. “And I didn’t cheat, so don’t listen to Morgan. He’s just a sore loser.”

 

Alicia hooks the barrel on her belt, prompting Al to finally slide June’s knife into the sheath on her own belt. Al holds her arms out, and Alicia doesn’t hesitate in launching herself into Al’s arms, securing her arms around Al’s neck. Alicia stands on her toes and hangs on as Al locks her arms around Alicia’s waist and drops her chin down to Alicia’s shoulder. If it bothers John at all, he doesn’t show it.

 

“Oh my God, your neck!” Alicia says.

 

“It’s fine,” Al promises, but Alicia’s arms are already sliding back. “Seriously. You didn’t hurt me.”

 

“Are you lying?”

 

“No,” Al lies.

 

“That reminds me. We need to change those bandages before we head out.”

 

Al glances at John, but he just shrugs and says, “Do what she says.”

 

“Don’t stay out here,” Alicia tells him. “Come inside with us.”

 

Obediently, John follows Al and Alicia into the truck stop and sits on the counter beside the coffee pot, directly across from the booth where Al takes her seat. Alicia retrieves a first aid kit and gets to work. Alicia forces Al to turn and lift the back of her tank top so she can inspect the bruising first, but it’s no longer a deep purple. Rather, it’s beginning to turn shades of green and yellow, which Alicia seems pleased with.

 

“You can hear, right?” Alicia asks.

 

“Sort of,” Al says. “It’s in and out still. Kind of warped, but coming back.”

 

Alicia nods and smiles in satisfaction. “Okay. Give me your hand.”

 

Al grins widely and lays her bandaged palm in Alicia’s hand. “What are we doing? Playing doctor?”

 

Alicia’s face heats up, and she hisses, “John is right over there!”

 

Al laughs. “John has heard much worse, trust me.”

 

“John is doing his best not to listen,” John pipes up, and Al laughs at Alicia’s blushing, touching her fingertips to Alicia’s cheek.

 

“You’re too cute,” Al murmurs, and Alicia ducks her head to try to hide her smile.

 

“Stop harassing me and let me work,” Alicia mumbles. “I’m not as good as June with this kind of stuff.”

 

“You’re perfectly fine.”

 

Alicia unwinds the bandage and flinches when the back of Al’s hand comes into view. Somehow, it almost looks worse now than it did when it was fresh. The inside of the bandage is stained with dried blood, but it never soaked through. Alicia pours more antiseptic over Al’s hand, and Al grits her teeth but stays silent. She lets Alicia wrap another bandage around her hand and secure it.

 

“How’s that?” Alicia asks quietly.

 

“Great.”

 

“It hurts.”

 

“From the antiseptic,” Al replies. “It’ll be fine in a few minutes.”

 

Their eyes lock, and Alicia stares at Al for a long moment before turning her attention to Al’s neck. Alicia hesitates, so Al reaches up and peels the gauze taped over the stitches off. Alicia gently takes Al’s chin in her hand and turns her head to the side to get a better look at the wound.

 

“I think it looks fine,” Alicia says. “I don’t know how to tell if something’s wrong.”

 

“Well, if it doesn’t look super nasty, I’m going to say it’s good,” Al says. “June can look at it once we find her.”

 

Al smiles. “Exactly. I didn’t bust any stitches?”

 

“Not that I can see.”

 

“Good,” Al says. “Now splash some antiseptic on it. Get it over with.”

 

Alicia shakes her head and pours some antiseptic onto a cotton wad, carefully dabbing at the stitching. Al waits patiently as Alicia tapes another hunk of gauze over the wound then slides off the table.

 

“C’mon,” Al says. “We need to wear more than just tank tops if we’re going to do this.”

 

Al and Alicia return to the radio room to grab their clothes. Al steals her gray button down back from Alicia and slides into it, buttoning all but the top two buttons. She puts on her jacket with the blood stain on the front from when they crashed and fixes the collar. The only thing Alicia does is snatch a leather jacket from one of the bags and throw it on. Alicia and Al stand and study each other for a moment, then Alicia nods and makes a noise that could be considered one of satisfaction.

 

“What happened to that rifle you used to have?” Alicia questions.

 

“What?” Al says.

 

“You remember when your van got stuck and we had to tow it? You had a rifle.”

 

“Oh, that rifle,” Al says. “I still have it. It’s in my van. Ran out of bullets, so it’s pretty useless right now.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Otherwise I’d have it,” Al points out.

 

“I just figured we could use more than John’s two revolvers,” Alicia says. “Since they were shooting at us. It’d be nice if we could shoot back rather than run at them with sticks and knives and broken pieces of gun barrels.”

 

“I’m not up for getting shot down, you know?” Al says. “But I think if there were any guns laying around, we’d know by now. We’re just going to have to make do with John’s revolvers.”

 

“Twelve shots,” Alicia says. “If John has bullets to replace the ones you fired off.”

 

“I do,” John says, materializing in the doorway. “There are plenty of bullets.”

 

“But only two guns that hold six shots,” Al says. “Lucky us.”

 

“Here,” John offers, pulling a revolver from his hip. He holds it out by the barrel to Al. “Take one.”

 

Al takes it but says, “You better start dumping bullets into my pockets so I can reload when I miss six times.”

 

John grins. “That’s the spirit.”

 

The front door slams shut, and Morgan shouts, “The truck’s all set to go.”

 

“Give us one minute,” John replies. He digs a handful of bullets out of his jacket pocket and drops them into Al’s hand. “There’s six more. You want another six?”

 

“Yes, she does,” Alicia answers.

 

“Yeah,” Al agrees. “Just in case I’m a terrible shot or the dead overrun us or something. You know.”

 

“Maybe don’t shoot one-handed this time,” Alicia suggests.

 

“I was trying not to bleed out, thank you very much,” Al retorts. She accepts another handful of bullets and catches Alicia tuck the camcorder into the inside pocket of her leather jacket out of the corner of her eye.

 

“Just hold it with two hands this time,” Alicia says.

 

“Good advice,” John agrees. “Come on. Morgan’s got the truck ready.”

 

Al walks out with Alicia’s arm wrapped around her waist, Al’s arm lazily resting against Alicia’s shoulder, and though Morgan sends them a funny look, he doesn’t actually say anything. Only the essentials are packed in the truck bed, and since Morgan’s already in the passenger’s seat, Al motions for John to drive and climbs up into the truck bed with Alicia. John closes the back of the truck then goes to drive, leaving Al and Alicia to sit side by side with their backs against the window.

 

“You ready?” Al asks.

 

Alicia grasps onto Al’s knee and smiles. “No,” she admits. “If things go wrong, they’ll go really wrong.”

 

“If things go wrong, at least we’ll be together,” Al says.

 

Alicia sighs shakily, and Al places her hand over Alicia’s on her knee. “I can’t watch you die,” Alicia says. She stares out to her right, away from Al, and her grip tightens on Al’s knee as they approach the intersection. “I’ve seen enough people I love die. I can’t – not you, too.”

 

“I won’t die.”

 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

 

“I’m going to do my best to keep it,” Al promises. She pries Alicia’s hand off her knee and brings it up to her lips. The window slides open behind them, and Al lowers Alicia’s hand but doesn’t let go.

 

“Hey,” Morgan says over his shoulder. “Keep your heads down back there, just in case they start shooting.”

 

“Got it, Mo-Mo,” Al replies. “Thanks for the heads up.”

 

Both Al and Alicia scoot down so their heads don’t poke over the top of the truck, and they keep their hold on each other’s hands. Alicia slides the window shut and turns her head toward Al, and Al manages a smile.

 

“Don’t get shot for me again,” Alicia says. “It’s my turn.”

 

Al snorts. “No. You don’t get a turn.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“If I need to die to protect you, then so be it,” Al says. “But you don’t get to die for me.”

 

“No,” Alicia says, eyes widening. “I’m tired of people dying for me. You don’t get to be just another person I love that dies to save me.”

 

“I’ve lived longer.”

 

“What? Six years? That’s _nothing_ ,” Alicia says. She covers their clasped hands with her free hand. “You don’t get to die.”

 

“Look, if we get shot at again, I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t take a bullet,” Al says. “And if the only way to stop it is to put my body in front of it, then I will. It’s as simple as that. Whatever happens, make sure you get to June and Luci. Get back to Victor. Keep yourself safe.”

 

“That’s not fair,” Alicia says quietly.

 

“No, it’s not,” Al says. “But the world’s going to need you more than it needs me, and you have people that are still depending on you.”

 

“People depend on you, too,” Alicia argues.

 

Al cracks a sad smile. “Just you.”

 

“I –”

 

“And I know you’re strong enough to go on without me, if you have to,” Al interrupts. She glances over her shoulder as John makes the turn at the intersection. “But whatever happens, just remember I love you, okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one was a little shorter, just sort of setting some shit up and giving Al and John a moment to be friends lol.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! I'd like to give a special thank you to all of you that have been leaving comments. Your interest in the story and your kind words really keep me motivated to write, and I can't thank you all enough. I'd love to hear from you, and I'll respond as quickly as I can!


	13. 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another sort of short chapter just to keep this story moving along. At this point, I have a pretty good idea of where I'm going with this and generally where the story's going to end up, but this is the chapter where shit really starts going off the rails. Honestly, I'm just having fun with it, and hopefully you'll stick around for the ride.

“I love you too,” Alicia says immediately, “but we’re not going to die.”

 

Al smiles, but it doesn’t match her eyes. “I think it’s best to be prepared for the possibility that we won’t all make it out,” Al says softly. “Like when we got on that plane that you idiots let me fly.”

 

The window slides back open before Alicia can respond. “Strand knows our location, right?” Morgan asks. “He’s way too far for this walkie to work.”

 

“He knows,” Alicia assures him. “He’ll figure it out.”

 

“Those are two very different things,” Morgan says.

 

“He hasn’t let me down yet,” Alicia says. She doesn’t stop to remember if that’s a true statement or not, but either way, it convinces Morgan. John drives slowly around the bends in the road, and they pass the spot with the blood Alicia found – now dried against the tree. Alicia only notices because the truck’s headlights shine directly onto it, as sunrise is at least an hour or two away still.

 

“Heads down,” Morgan reminds. “We don’t know if there are snipers.”

 

Alicia squeezes Al’s hand tighter as Al mutters, “If there are snipers, we’ve got bigger problems.” Al glances over at the expression on Alicia’s face and quickly adds, “But I doubt there are snipers. My head would’ve been blown off if there were.”

 

“That’s not comforting,” Alicia says.

 

“But my head _wasn’t_ blown off, so that tells us there are no snipers,” Al says. “Just an amateur with a gun.”

 

“Like you,” Alicia says, motioning toward the revolver John gave Al.

 

“I’m not an amateur!” Al says. “You’ve seen me pick off the dead with a rifle.”

 

“A revolver isn’t a rifle.”

 

“You got me there,” Al grunts. “You want it instead?”

 

“No,” Alicia says. “I can’t use that thing. The kickback will break my wrist.”

 

They both go silent as they pass by the section of the road where they were shot at. The truck coasts on by and rounds another bend. The headlights shine on something large in the distance.

 

“What is that?” Morgan wonders aloud.

 

“A building,” Al quips.

 

Alicia stifles a laugh into her hand at the face Morgan makes when he says, “Obviously. What _kind_ of building?”

 

“That’s not what you asked,” Al says. She exchanges a grin with Alicia, and Alicia tries to let the grin put her at ease. It doesn’t work, of course. She’s too worried about the possibility of incoming bullets. It’s been quiet, so far. Too quiet. The surrounding silence makes the truck’s engine seem thunderous. At some point, they’re going to have to park and go on foot, but John shows no signs of stopping yet.

 

“It’s a house,” John finally says.

 

“That’s not a house,” Alicia counters. “That’s a fucking mansion.”

 

“Built in the middle of the woods?” Al questions.

 

“It’s isolated, but not too far from some kind of civilization,” Alicia says. “I would’ve loved to live in a place like that.”

 

Al frowns. “It’s creepy. You’re telling me you’d leave LA for that?”

 

Alicia shrugs. “Sure. It’d be peaceful.”

 

“Maybe if there wasn’t blood splattered on that tree back there,” Al says. “And if someone hadn’t shot me.”

 

“Maybe a family of dickheads lives there. I don’t know,” Alicia says. “John. Don’t get too close.”

 

John pulls off the road into a small clearing, and the four exit the truck. Al hops out of the back first, offering her hand to Alicia. Alicia takes it even though she could get down just fine on her own and kisses Al quickly when Morgan’s back is turned.

 

“Watch our backs,” John tells Al. She nods, pulling the revolver from her waistband and checking to make sure it’s loaded. Alicia hangs back with Al, perfectly happy to let John and Morgan lead the way. They should’ve brought a flashlight, Alicia realizes, but they’re lucky they’ve got the walkie and weapons. Being surrounded by the woods in the utter darkness is spooky, even if they’re trying to use the darkness to their advantage. Alicia sticks close to Al, carrying the barrel in her left hand so she can hold onto Al’s elbow with her right, but it’s definitely not because Alicia’s freaked out by the woods or the mansion ahead of them that looks like a hundred people have totally been murdered in it. A murder mansion.

 

“I was wrong,” Alicia hisses. “We’re gonna die here.”

 

Al sends her a funny look. “Now you’re afraid?”

 

“The closer we get, the more convinced I am that people have absolutely been murdered in there,” Alicia says.

 

Al scoffs. “Oh, yeah, that’s definitely a murder mansion.”

 

“That’s what I thought!”

 

They grin, but Al’s slides quickly, and she stops walking. Since Alicia’s holding onto Al’s elbow, she’s yanked to a halt, too.

 

“Guys, stop,” Al calls. She isn’t loud enough, but Alicia understands why shouting after John and Morgan might not be the best idea right now.

 

“What is it?” Alicia asks. It’s not cold – and she’s wearing a leather jacket – but goosebumps rise on Alicia’s arms.

 

“I don’t know,” Al mutters. She adjusts her grip on John’s revolver in her bandaged hand. “Just a feeling, mostly.”

 

“What kind of feeling?”

 

Their eyes lock. “Like we’re being watched,” Al says. Her eyes scan the road and the woods behind them, but nothing moves. Nothing makes a sound.

 

“We should catch up with the guys,” Alicia says. “Before we lose sight of them.”

 

She swaps her hold on Al’s elbow to her hand, linking their fingers together. Alicia breathes deeply, but she’s calm. Her heart is totally not pounding like crazy in her chest. They’ve done much worse than approach a house – worse than approaching murder mansions. Way worse.

 

“Scared?” Al teases.

 

“No!”

 

“Then why do you have my hand in a death grip?”

 

“I just like you,” Alicia lies. “Where’s John and Morgan? They weren’t that far ahead.”

 

The mansion isn’t far. Another two minutes of walking would take them to the front door. Before Al can answer Alicia’s question, a gunshot rings out, and they both instinctively drop to the road, hands over the backs of their heads.

 

“That wasn’t in our direction,” Al says. She scrambles to her feet, brandishing the revolver, and she hurries Alicia along. There’s a grunt of pain off in the distance, toward the woods – did John and Morgan step off the fucking road? – and Alicia runs alongside Al in the direction the sound came from.

 

“Someone’s hit,” Alicia says.

 

“Someone has a gun, and we’re a target,” Al replies.

 

“Shoot back!”

 

“I don’t know where the shot came from,” Al hisses.

 

“The house, probably!”

 

“Well, they venture away from the house, apparently,” Al says, “because they wouldn’t have been able to shoot me from the house last time.”

 

“You’re saying they could be anywhere,” Alicia says.

 

“And we’re trespassing on their property.”

 

“They have our friends!”

 

Al glances over, lips pressed together. “We don’t know that for sure.”

 

“Now is not the time for uncertainty!”

 

“John!” Al whispers. “Morgan! Where the fuck are you?”

 

Alicia opens her mouth to respond, but in the next moments, there’s a dull _thwack_ , and Alicia sees stars. Someone prevents her body from slamming to the ground, and Alicia barely holds onto consciousness. She makes out the sounds of a struggle, Al yelling something she can’t quite discern – maybe Al’s yelling Alicia’s name. That would make sense. There’s another yell that’s definitely wordless, more scuffling, and Alicia thinks, deliriously, that she’s being dragged farther from the noise. There’s no question that she’s being dragged away; she just has no clue which direction she’s going in. She stops trying to remain conscious.

 

Alicia pulls out of the best sleep of her life and opens her eyes to a dark room. She can’t remember having a nightmare – a first – but she dreamt something strange. She was approaching a creepy-ass mansion alongside Al, John, and Morgan. She never got inside before the dream ended, though. She sits herself up, wincing and reaching for the source of the sharp pain at the back of her head. She isn’t in her bed at the factory, or even on her cot at the truck stop. She’s on a fucking concrete floor.

 

Alicia presses her palms flat against the cold concrete, eyebrows pulling together. Something isn’t right, but she’s pretty sure she’s awake. Unless she entered the Matrix at some point, this is the reality in which the dead eat people and she’s dating Al.

 

Speaking of Al –

 

“Where’s Al?” Alicia manages to say. Despite having slept like the dead, Alicia feels drowsy. Kind of out of it. Like she’s in need of twelve consecutive hours of sleep. A gentle rustling sound startles Alicia and prompts her to force herself to her feet. She checks her belt for her barrel, but it’s missing. The camcorder isn’t in her jacket pocket. She’s completely unarmed, so she curls her hands into fists and hopes it doesn’t come down to a fight. “Who – who’s there?” Alicia stutters.

 

“Alicia?”

 

Alicia’s arms fall to her side. She takes a few steps forward as her eyes continue to try to adjust to the darkness, but she knows that voice. “Luci?” Alicia says. “Is that –?”

 

Luciana flings herself into Alicia’s arms before Alicia finishes her question, and Alicia laughs in relief and returns the hug. Luciana’s shoulder seems to be doing much better, based on the crushing strength of the embrace.

 

“You’re alive,” Luci says into Alicia’s jacket. “I didn’t know if they’d gotten to you.”

 

“What’s going on?” Alicia asks. Luciana pulls back, and Alicia grasps onto her biceps. “What’s happening? Where’s Al?”

 

Alicia can just make out Luciana’s face through the darkness. Alicia watches her expression darken. “I didn’t see Al,” Luciana says. “They just brought you.”

 

“What do you mean?” Alicia asks. “I was with Al and John and Morgan. I mean, I’m pretty sure I – wait. Where are we?”

 

“From what I can tell? A basement of some sort.”

 

“A basement? Oh my God. We’re in the murder mansion.”

 

Alicia slaps her hand against her forehead and mentally berates herself for being so goddamn stupid. That wasn’t a dream. And she wasn’t sleeping. She was knocked the fuck out on the lawn of the murder mansion. And Al –

 

“We need to find Al,” Alicia blurts.

 

“Stop,” Luciana orders, grabbing Alicia by the wrist. “There’s no use. You can’t break down a steel door.”

 

“You wanna bet?”

 

“You’ll break your shoulder before that door ever budges,” Luciana says.

 

Alicia glares at their only exit. She lets her eyes wander around the room, which is small for one person, let alone two. There’s the steel door that Luciana says is the exit. There’s a twin bed shoved against the far wall and another door, currently propped open, that leads into a small bathroom. On the wall to Alicia’s left is a rectangular window, too high up to reach and too small to squeeze through even if there weren’t metal bars drilled into it. It’s their only source of light – which is next to none, since the sun still hasn’t risen. They’re trapped in a concrete box.

 

“How’d you get here?” Alicia finally asks.

 

“When you guys went off exploring…” Luciana trails off, shaking her head. “I don’t know. They threw a smoke grenade in first, and when I came to, I was here.”

 

“Who are they?” Alicia questions.

 

“I don’t know,” Luciana says quietly. “I never got a look at any faces.”

 

“But they’re around,” Alicia says. “They feed you?”

 

“Yes,” Luciana says. “And it normally isn’t dark. It’s just because it’s still night.” She motions toward the ceiling, where a single lightbulb hangs.

 

“Then how haven’t you seen their faces?”

 

Luciana blinks. “They wear helmets. Weird uniforms.”

 

“Well, what do they want?” Alicia demands.

 

“I don’t know,” Luciana says softly. “They haven’t said. They don’t do a lot of talking.”

 

“This is bullshit!” Alicia snarls. She thinks better of kicking the door – Luciana’s right; that steel will do more damage to her than she’ll do to it. “We can’t just stay here!”

 

“Well, do you have a plan?” Luciana asks. “I’ve thought about storming the door when they open it to bring meals, but my shoulder isn’t completely healed.”

 

“That’s our only shot,” Alicia says.

 

“But then again, they might just shoot us,” Luciana muses. “They carry guns.”

 

“But they didn’t kill us,” Alicia says. “They shot Al, but it only grazed her. They might’ve shot John or Morgan…I don’t know for sure. And they could’ve easily gunned the four of us down, so why didn’t they?”

 

Luciana sighs. She moves toward the other end of the room, where Alicia sets her eyes on the twin bed, and Luciana sits on the edge of the bed. She clasps her hands together in her lap and stares down at the floor.

 

“My best guess?” Luciana offers. “They need us for something. Or they need something from us.”

 

“Like what?”

 

Luciana shrugs with one shoulder. “You’re the one who said we’re in a murder mansion. Maybe they’re going to murder us.”

 

Alicia’s lips part. “They could’ve shot us a lot sooner.”

 

“Maybe they aren’t the kind of murderers that use guns.”

 

“That’s ridiculous,” Alicia dismisses, but the thought doesn’t leave her brain. Worst case scenario, they’re dealing with a well-armed group of Hannibal Lecter types. Or there was that one settlement a while back that decided it was better to metaphorically join the dead by eating the living. So it’s not entirely impossible, even if it’s highly unlikely.

 

“Then what do they want from us?” Luciana asks.

 

“Companionship?” Alicia jokes. “Right. Not the time for jokes.”

 

“Al’s really starting to rub off on you,” Luciana says.

 

“You have no idea.”

 

“I meant about cracking jokes at inappropriate times.”

 

“I know,” Alicia says defensively. “So let’s list some options. One, we’re dealing with cannibals, and they’re feeding us to fatten us up.”

 

“Not a terrible idea,” Luciana says.

 

“Two,” Alicia continues, counting off on her fingers, “they’re running a _Fight Club_ kind of thing and are going to pit us against each other.”

 

“Then why risk injuring us?”

 

“Why not?” Alicia says. “It would give some people an advantage.”

 

“Next.”

 

“Three,” Alicia says, “this is like that one horror movie _Hostel_ and they’re intending on torturing us then killing us.”

 

Luciana makes a face. “I’d choose _Fight Club_ over that.”

 

“I’m just spitballing,” Alicia says. “Who wears uniforms and helmets in a creepy mansion in the middle of fucking nowhere and kidnaps people?”

 

“Psychopaths.”

 

“Obviously,” Alicia agrees. They grin together, but it fades quickly. Alicia’s mind runs at a hundred miles per hour. Her mind bounces ideas around, but her ideas are getting mixed up with her concerns about Al. Alicia’s forced to push her worries about Al – and John, June, and Morgan – aside so she can try to determine why the fuck they’re locked up.

 

“But what kind of psychopaths?” Luciana questions.

 

“Maybe it’s a crazy sex cult and we’re about to be inducted into it,” Alicia says.

 

“The uniforms scream more _mercenary_ than _sex cult_ ,” Luciana replies.

 

“Damn,” Alicia mutters. “I was kind of hoping it’d be a sex cult.”

 

“Better than cannibals, but I don’t think that’s it.”

 

“I’m running out of plausible ideas,” Alicia says. She takes a seat on the bed beside Luciana and slaps her palms on her knees.

 

“And those weren’t even very plausible.”

 

Alicia sighs and shakes her head. “We’re really bad at this helping people thing, have you noticed?” she says. “First we crashed a plane to help a man who was just fooling us into giving up our home. Now we’re locked up in the murder mansion with no way out. We can’t even help ourselves, but we think we can help other people? What a fucking joke.”

 

“Maybe you’re right,” Luciana says quietly. “But if we don’t try, who’s going to?”

 

“I don’t know,” Alicia says. “But I think I’m ready to quit. You know, if we ever get out of here alive.”

 

“You can’t mean that,” Luciana says.

 

“We’re putting our own lives in danger for people who clearly don’t want us to help them,” Alicia says.

 

“Alicia, if any of us run headfirst into danger, it’s you,” Luciana points out. “If you disregard your own personal safety because you think it’s just you against the world, you’re wrong. There are still people that care about you.”

 

“I know,” Alicia murmurs. “Trust me.”

 

Luciana reaches over and pats Alicia’s knee. “I know this isn’t the most ideal situation, but it is nice not to be locked up alone anymore.”

 

Alicia chuckles. “It’s nice to know you aren’t dead.”

 

“It’s nice to know _you_ aren’t dead.”

 

Alicia chews on her lower lip. “Do you think the others are just locked up down here, too?”

 

“It’s possible,” Luciana says. “When the door opens for meals…I mean, you can’t really see past the body blocking the exit. Who knows what’s down here?”

 

“We’re going to find out,” Alicia says. “I need to see their routine for myself. Then we’re gonna act.”

 

“These aren’t people you mess with,” Luciana warns. “I don’t think they’re carrying those guns just for show.”

 

Alicia’s expression darkens. “I know. But we can’t just sit here and wait for them to eat us or torture us or make us part of their crazy sex cult. I have a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a bad (good?) feeling that the upcoming Althea-centric episode is going to spark some other side projects, and I'm deciding on whether or not I want to turn another story I wrote, Not Safe, into the beginning of a series of one-shots that can serve as prequels to Crash.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Let me know what you think, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


	14. 14

Al has gotten used to waking up in pain, but this time, it’s almost overwhelming. She nearly passes out moments after her eyes open, because the pain’s mostly concentrated in one area: her goddamn face. Her vision blurs, and though she feels someone’s hands on her and hears a gentle voice, she panics. The last thing she remembers is getting fucking decked by a gloved fist. She struggles to breathe, having no choice but to breathe through her mouth, which she can sort of tell tastes like blood. She bets the taste would be stronger if her nose was functioning properly.

 

“Hey,” a familiar voice says as Al tries to lift her head. “Hey, it’s okay. Try to relax. Calm down.”

 

“What happened?” Al barely manages to mumble. She moans when more blood flows out of her nose into her mouth. She turns her head to the side and spits as hands grasp at her jacket on her chest. The grip is loose, but Al’s definitely being held down.

 

“Don’t move,” the soft, decisively female voice says. Al sets her eyes in the direction of the voice and blinks until her vision clears enough for her to make out the face that accompanies the voice.

 

“June?” Al says, but more blood has run into her mouth, and it garbles her voice.

 

“Yeah,” June says. She smiles, but it doesn’t match the worried look in her eye. “It’s okay.”

 

“That makes me think it’s not okay,” Al says. June gnaws on her lower lip and releases her grasp on Al’s jacket, but her palms press flat against the upper part of her chest instead. It’s not necessary; Al’s not dumb enough to try to get up. She’s got enough problems with the blood running into her mouth while she’s lying down. “But you’re alive,” Al says, cracking a pained smile. She spits off to the side again and grimaces. She can feel the blood beginning to dry on her chin and cheeks.

 

“Yeah, so are you,” June replies.

 

“Why am I bleeding so much?”

 

June sighs. One hand leaves Al’s chest to gently rest against the side of Al’s face as June smiles sadly. “They broke your nose, sweetheart,” June informs.

 

“Who’s _they_?” Al asks. “And how long was I out?”

 

“You just arrived maybe ten minutes ago,” June guesses. “I’ve been trying to get you to regain consciousness.” June pauses. “And I don’t know who they are. They haven’t been the most cooperative hosts.”

 

“They knocked me out?”

 

June nods. She uses the hand not caressing Al’s face to push her hair back from her forehead for her. Al realizes they’re both on the ground. Concrete by the feel. June’s kneeling at her side, and Al realizes one more thing –

 

“You have to set my fucking nose, don’t you?” Al groans.

 

“Yeah, hon.”

 

“Don’t call me by pet names,” Al says. She squeezes her eyes shut, lips parting instinctively from the pain, but the blood that enters her mouth prevents her from making another sound. She nearly fucking chokes before she spits it out once more. “Just hurt me,” Al says.

 

“Al –”

 

“The sooner you do it, the sooner I can find Alicia,” Al blurts, “and then get the hell out of here.”

 

“We aren’t going anywhere,” June says. “I’m going to need you to sit up –”

 

“What do you _mean_ we aren’t going anywhere?” Al demands. The sternness in her voice is immediately overridden by the hiss of pain she lets out as soon as she finishes speaking.

 

“They’ve got us locked in this room,” June says. “We can talk about this later. I need to take care of your nose first, and then you’re going to tell me why your hand is bandaged and what’s going on with the stitching in your neck.”

 

“That’s a long fucking story.”

 

“Well, we have time,” June says. “So you’re going to tell it as soon as I’ve fixed your nose.”

 

“It’s going to be crooked forever, isn’t it?”

 

“Probably,” June says. She strokes her hand over Al’s hair, but Al impatiently knocks her arm aside.

 

“Do it,” she orders.

 

“I need you to sit up first.”

 

Al hesitates. “I might pass out again. Fair warning.”

 

Al tries to bolt upright, but June grabs her by the jacket again and forces her back down. “If you think you’re going to pass out, then stay down,” June commands. “Sit up slowly. Don’t do it all at once.”

 

“Right,” Al mutters. “What was I thinking?”

 

Slowly, June helps get Al into a seated position, leaning back against the concrete wall. Al’s eyes scan their surroundings, though there isn’t much to see. A twin bed against the far wall. A door that leads to the bathroom. A steel door that must be the exit. A small window probably just slightly too high up for Al or June to reach despite of them being considerably tall. Not that it matters, because that window’s full of bars anyway. There’s no squeezing through that.

 

As soon as Al’s up, her head feels like it wants to explode, and June’s already bracing herself to set Al’s nose.

 

“You ready?” June asks.

 

Al winces. “No. Fuck, no, not at all.”

 

June grasps onto her shoulder and gives her a moment. Al breathes heavily through her mouth, eyes closed, and she tries to remember what happened to Alicia. They got Alicia first, but all Al remembers seeing is Alicia’s body going limp. She landed in someone’s arms – someone wearing all black – and they dragged her off. There was definitely a fight, and Al definitely lost. She hazily recalls the punch, but she lost consciousness quickly after she heard her nose crunch beneath the force of the fist. Whoever hit her really knows how to throw a punch.

 

“Where’s Alicia?” Al finally asks.

 

“I don’t know,” June admits quietly. “I didn’t see her. They only brought you to me.”

 

“Morgan and John – they were with us, too,” Al says.

 

“John’s here?” June questions.

 

“Probably,” Al grunts. “One of them got shot, I think.”

 

“ _What_?”

 

“There was a shot,” Al explains. “Alicia and I had fallen behind, and when we went to investigate, we were attacked. And now I’m here. Look, I know you’re freaking out about John. I get it. But I need you to tell me what happened to you and Luci.”

 

June bites back any questions about John. “I don’t know,” June says. “You four took off to explore that damn road, and suddenly, a smoke grenade went off in the truck stop. When I woke up, I was in this room.”

 

“You’ve been here the whole time?”

 

“Yeah. They bring food, but they never speak. They don’t tell us what we’re here for or what they want. They just drop off meals and lock us back in.”

 

Al stares in disbelief at June until June’s eyes lock onto her nose once more. “Do it,” Al spits. “Just fucking do it.”

 

“It’s going to hurt.”

 

“It already hurts,” Al says through gritted teeth. “Try not to do anymore damage, yeah? My nose is gonna be fucked up. Don’t make it, like, super fucked up.”

 

June smiles, but it still doesn’t match her eyes. Al can’t determine if the concern she sees there is for her or if it’s for John, but she supposes it doesn’t really matter. Every other thought that passes through her own mind is about Alicia, so why shouldn’t June be worrying about John?

 

“Do you want to know when I’m going to do it?” June asks.

 

“No.”

 

June nods. She prepares herself, and Al swallows down her feelings of dread as June gets ready. Al closes her eyes and waits. There’s a sickening _snap_ as Al’s nose is jerked back into place, and Al’s sure everything within a ten mile radius hears the scream she can’t stop herself from letting out. June cringes but brings Al’s hands up to her nose and says something about holding it until the bleeding stops. If the pain was bad before, it’s even worse as Al tries to stanch the flow of blood. Her hands slip when she nearly loses consciousness for a second, but June quickly corrects her hold. Al forces herself to stay awake, locking her eyes onto June’s face and refusing to look away. If she can stay focused on June, she’ll stay conscious. At least, that’s what she tells herself.

 

The entire time, June whispers soothing words that Al barely hears, but it’s the thought that counts. Al feels like she’s suffocating, but she doesn’t pass out or die, so it’s probably not that bad. Blood is totally dribbling out of her mouth, but she can’t do anything about that, either. It’s not her most dignified moment. She thinks she handled getting shot much better than she’s handling this.

 

June takes a seat beside Al’s legs, facing her, and holds onto Al’s knee as Al clutches at her nose and prays the bleeding stops soon.

 

“So about your hands and your neck,” June says.

 

“Got shot,” Al says. “Skinned my hand preventing Alicia’s brains from splattering on the pavement.”

 

“You were _shot_?”

 

“Graze would,” Al dismisses. “Alicia stitched it.”

 

“The second we’re out of here, I’m taking a look at it,” June says.

 

“You mean after you and John suck face,” Al says.

 

June stifles a laugh and puts on a serious face. “That isn’t funny.”

 

“It was fucking funny and you know it.”

 

June shrugs and stares at the concrete floor. Al watches her – she’s still working on staying completely conscious.

 

“Do you think it was John that got shot?” June finally asks.

 

“I don’t know,” Al says. “I didn’t see…it could’ve been either of them.”

 

“It’d be terrible if I hoped it was Morgan,” June says.

 

“But you're hoping it’s Morgan,” Al says. “I get it. I mean, that’s really fucked up, but I understand why you would hope for that.”

 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m hoping whoever got shot was hit somewhere…decent. I’m hoping it was a graze wound or through somewhere easy to treat. But I’m also hoping against all odds that it wasn’t John. He was already shot once. He already almost died once – well, more than once, but once because of a bullet.”

 

Al flinches as the memory of Alicia shooting John surfaces, but she thinks June will attribute it to the pain from her nose.

 

“I don’t know what I would do if John died,” June whispers. Her grip on Al’s knee tightens, and Al wishes she could release her nose to try to comfort June, but at the same time, she doubts June wants her blood smeared all over her. At least, more than it already is.

 

“I know,” Al says. “He’s not dead.”

 

“You can’t know that.”

 

“No, I can’t,” Al agrees, “but that’s what I’m choosing to believe.”

 

June’s head lifts fast, and their eyes lock. Al’s eyebrows raise as she waits for June to say something, but June merely sighs and shakes her head. “How’s the bleeding?” June asks.

 

“It’s still coming,” Al says. To demonstrate, she spits more blood off to the side and flashes a blood-smeared grin. She stops quickly because of the extra pain it causes her, but June gets the point.

 

“It should slow down soon.”

 

“I hope,” Al grumbles. “This is disgusting. You know, the world really just keeps shitting on me, man. I hit my head in the plane crash. I returned to the wreckage and hurt my back, blew out my eardrum, and destroyed my backup camera. I got fucking shot and skinned the back of my hand. And now my fucking nose is broken. When’s it gonna end?”

 

June pats Al’s knee. “Soon, I hope. I don’t think your body can take much more.”

 

“Don’t say that!”

 

“I’m kidding. You’ll be fine. The world’s just picking on you for being such an ass.”

 

Al manages to look offended even while concealing most of her face with her hands. “I am not an ass!”

 

“I won’t blame you for crashing the plane, but the injuries you sustained when you went back alone are your fault. That was you being an ass. Let me think. You filmed John getting shot and had to be convinced to stop filming to help him.”

 

“That was a long time ago! I’m different now.”

 

“It wasn’t that long ago, honey,” June points out. “But you’re right. You’re different. But still, I’m just proving you’ve been an ass and it’s catching up to you. What else? I can keep going if you’d like.”

 

“I think I’m good,” Al mutters.

 

“You were pretty asshole-ish to Alicia for a while there,” June muses.

 

“First of all, I tried to help her when we met and she threatened to slit my throat,” Al says. “Second of all, fuck you.”

 

June laughs, and Al smiles in spite of the pain. “You’re just being defensive because you know I’m right,” June says.

 

“I think the bleeding’s stopping,” Al announces.

 

“Keep your hands there!” June exclaims. “You don’t want it starting back up again.”

 

Al rolls her eyes but does as she’s told. “You know,” Al says, “Alicia was an asshole to me, too. Just for the record.”

 

June smirks. “I know,” she says. “And now you two can’t stop staring into each other’s eyes and falling asleep on each other and constantly worrying about each other. Funny how things change, isn’t it?”

 

“She tried to kill me,” Al reminds. “More than once.”

 

June grins, a malicious glint in her eye. “That’s what made you like her, isn’t it?”

 

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” Al says as June busts out laughing.

 

“You know, I have this theory –” June starts, but she cuts herself off when Al lowers her hands from her face. The bandage on her right hand is soaked through with blood, but it’s thanks to her nose. June’s almost about to reprimand Al until she realizes Al’s nose has stopped bleeding. “Be careful,” June warns.

 

“I know,” Al says. “And I know about your theory, too. John shared it with me. And Alicia.”

 

An indignant look crosses June’s face. “I told him never to breathe a word!”

 

“Cut him some slack,” Al says softly. “It was under unusual circumstances.”

 

June sighs and shakes her head. “That man, I swear. If I didn’t love him –”

 

“You _love_ him,” Al teases.

 

“No point in pretending I don’t.”

 

“Understandable.”

 

June cracks a smile. “So what’d you think of my theory?”

 

“One, I think you’re an ass for speculating about my love life,” Al says. “And two, I think you’re an ass for being right.”

 

June’s eyebrows shoot up toward her hairline. “Wait, what? What exactly did John say to you?”

 

Al shrugs. “Just that you kept telling him that Alicia and I would be really good together except we’re too stubborn to do anything about it.”

 

“So what do you mean that I’m right?” June questions. She slaps her hand against Al’s knee, and Al quickly shifts her legs away as her jaw falls open in shock.

 

“Ow,” Al whines as June exclaims, “Are you saying you like Alicia?”

 

“No,” Al says sarcastically. “Alicia likes me. I like her back. Get it right.”

 

“You two have been together _this whole time_?”

 

Al smiles sheepishly. “Sort of? It’s a long story.”

 

“And you’re locked in a concrete box with me,” June says. “Start talking. Any other time you never shut up. So go on.”

 

Al pulls an offended look that she quickly stops as her nose protests. “I’m hurt, and it’s not just my nose this time.”

 

“When did it start?” June asks.

 

“Depends. If you ask Alicia, she wants to start the story at the factory, but if you ask me, it starts when Nick died.”

 

“That’s messed up,” June says.

 

“Well, we’re kinda messed up, I guess. As if you and John aren’t, too, so I’d watch it if I were you.”

 

They grin together. June lets out a low whistle and says, “Damn, I can’t believe I was right this whole time. Why didn’t you say something sooner, you idiot? John’s been thinking I’m crazy for weeks.”

 

Al winces. “That’s a long story, too.”

 

“Well, I’m getting details one way or another,” June says. “Don’t think you’re getting out of that one. You know everything about me and John.”

 

“Yeah, but I’d rather not,” Al jokes.

 

“Alicia tried to kill you more than once, and you really went _that’s the one_ ,” June says. “What’s wrong with you?” she laughs.

 

“To be fair,” Al defends, “I didn’t decide right away. I didn’t like her when she was actively trying to kill me.”

 

“No, that came after you survived it,” June says. “If I’m remembering right, she nearly fed you to the dead.”

 

“Yeah. I don’t know how she was stronger than me. I work out.”

 

June snorts. “As long as she hasn’t tried to kill you recently.”

 

“Of course she hasn’t. She’s been too busy trying to keep my ass alive.”

 

“I thought she was different,” June admits. “I just couldn’t figure out exactly what prompted the change. But now I know.”

 

“Yeah? What is it?”

 

“Your dumb ass.”

 

“I thought you were my friend,” Al says. “After all, I let you rant about John and fix all the injuries I’ve collected, but here you are insulting me.”

 

“Come on,” June says, knocking her hand against Al’s leg. “You know I’m teasing. Alicia makes you happy. You make her happy. You’ve made each other better. That’s something special. It’s just my job as your friend to give you a hard time about it.”

 

Al’s expression turns serious, and June quickly drops her lighthearted demeanor. “You think they’re alright?” Al asks. “Alicia and John?”

 

“I know they wouldn’t go down without a fight,” June says. “They’re tough, and they’re smart. I bet you they’re alive. John hasn’t let me down so far.”

 

Al nods. “I guess that just leaves the question of why we’re here.”

 

“I have no idea,” June says. “I couldn’t even guess.”

 

“Sure you could,” Al says. “But first, be honest: how messed up is my face?”

 

“Messed up,” June answers. “But it’ll heal eventually. You might have to keep your lips to yourself for a while –”

 

“Not helping,” Al cuts in, glaring.

 

“Right.”

 

“Now take a guess,” Al says. “Anything. First thing that pops into your mind. Humor me.”

 

June rubs at the back of her neck and pulls her knees toward her chest. She taps her fingers on the concrete as she thinks. “The government never actually fell and secretly operates out of this building and is locking up every living person they come across,” June says.

 

Al chuckles and stares down at her hands. She wipes as much of the blood onto her pants as she can, though the bandage is soaked, but she manages to get most of her left hand clean.

 

“Not bad,” Al says. “How about this: aliens have invaded the planet because, plot twist, they sent the virus that raises the dead to wipe out our numbers, and they’re ready to round the rest of us up and probe us.”

 

June laughs. “That’s better than mine.”

 

“Neither are very plausible.”

 

“You didn’t ask for plausible. You asked for the first thing that popped into my head.”

 

“Yeah,” Al says. “You didn’t disappoint.” Al finally tries to wipe some of the blood off of her face, carefully avoiding her nose, though based on June’s expression, she isn’t doing a very good job. She’s already bled all over her favorite jacket – even more than before – but she can’t bring herself to use the sleeves to clean up her face. “You don’t really think there’s still a government, do you?” Al asks.

 

“No,” June scoffs. “The government’s long gone.”

 

“But maybe that’s what this is. Or maybe it’s the military.”

 

“That’s insane,” June says, but Al doesn’t miss the flicker of doubt on June’s face. “It’s insane, right?”

 

“I don’t know,” Al mutters. “I fucking hope so.”

 

“Whoever it is,” June says, “it can’t be anyone good.”

 

“I could’ve told you that,” Al deadpans. She motions to her face, and June just blinks.

 

“What if we don’t get out of here?” June asks quietly.

 

“That isn’t an option,” Al replies immediately. “Don’t give up on me now, June. I’m the one with the banged up body, and I’m still willing to put up a fight.”

 

“I’m not giving up,” June says. “But if something – if something bad happens to me, I don’t want John to have to – it’ll break him.”

 

“We’ll figure something out,” Al assures her. “We always do.”

 

“Luck runs out.”

 

“Mine hasn’t yet,” Al boasts. “I’m not about to start now.”

 

“I don’t – I don’t think I understand.”

 

“Luck is a mindset,” Al says.

 

June pauses. “How are you feeling? Weak? Delirious?”

 

“Get your hands off me,” Al grumbles, swatting June’s arm away before she can try to feel if Al’s warm. “You’re forcing me to be the optimist,” Al says. “And frankly, we can’t rely on luck. We’ve got to make our own luck, so we need a plan.”

 

“There’s no plan,” June dismisses. “There’s nothing we can do. We’re not going to break through a steel door with our bare hands.”

 

“They feed us,” Al points out. “That’s when they’re vulnerable.”

 

June snorts. “They’re not vulnerable, Al. They’re carrying guns, and they’re heavily armored. They don’t even show us their faces. I don’t even know if it’s the same person coming around to feed me or not.”

 

“The door opens,” Al says, jabbing her index finger in June’s direction. “That is our _only_ chance, unless you think you can squeeze through that barred off window up there.” When June doesn’t respond, Al adds, “Or do you want to just sit around and wait to see if we get probed by aliens sometime in the next few days?”

 

“We won’t be probed by aliens,” June says. “That’s ridiculous.”

 

“This whole situation is ridiculous,” Al says. “Ever since the dead started eating people, life has been fucking ridiculous. Maybe we’re going to be probed by aliens, and maybe we aren’t. Point is, I’m not just going to sit here and wait to find out.”

 

“You are in no shape to fight an armored guard,” June says sharply.

 

“Well, if you won’t, I don’t have much of a choice,” Al says.

 

“And if they shoot you?” June questions. “What happens then?”

 

Al hesitates. “Then you find a way out and tell Alicia – just tell her I’m sorry, yeah?”

 

Al pushes herself up to her feet, and June quickly follows, grasping onto Al’s arm in case she’s about to nosedive back to the ground. Al stands steady, though, but doesn’t bother to shake June’s hand off.

 

“I’m not going to tell Alicia you’re sorry,” June hisses, “because you aren’t going to create a reason to be sorry.”

 

Al smiles lopsidedly. Her eyes water at the pain the smile creates, but she doesn’t stop. “It’s a simple plan, really,” Al says. “It should work like a charm. I just need you to help me do the dirty work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever since 4x12, I've been interested in the dynamic between June and Al's friendship since Al finally opens up about her tapes a bit to June, so I'm happy I get to explore their friendship a little more in this fic. Also Al really just can't catch a break with all these injuries lol.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts/questions/concerns in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


	15. 15

“This is the worst plan in the history of bad plans!” Luciana hisses.

 

“It’ll work,” Alicia insists. “Just – if they speak to you, pretend like you only know Spanish.”

 

“And what if they know Spanish, too, then what?” Luciana snaps.

 

“Then act like you have no clue what happened to me,” Alicia says. “Play dumb.”

 

“I’m a terrible actor!”

 

“All you have to do is lure them inside,” Alicia says. “This is going to work.”

 

“And if it doesn’t?”

 

“Then we both get shot and bleed out in the murder mansion,” Alicia says with a shrug. “There are worse ways to go.”

 

“You really need to spend some time away from Al,” Luciana says. “You’re picking up too much of her morbid sense of humor.”

 

Alicia grins. “I think it suits me,” she replies. She goes silent at the sound of boots on the concrete floor outside. “Get ready,” Alicia orders. Luciana bolts to the other end of the room as Alicia lowers herself to the floor and rolls beneath the bed. She had Luciana check earlier after their first meal was dropped off; it’s not obvious from the viewpoint of the steel door that someone’s beneath the bed. It sits low enough to block Alicia’s body from view, but not so low that Alicia can’t easily slide under or free herself.

 

The sound of keys in the door sends Alicia’s heart into her throat. Maybe Luciana’s right. This is the absolute worst plan. It’s also their only one apart from instantly storming the door the second it opens, and Alicia thinks this is going to work much better than that. The lock clicks, and the steel door is pushed open. Whoever’s in the doorway doesn’t step in, but something is definitely off. For breakfast, the guard immediately handed off the trays of food to Alicia and Luciana. This time, Alicia isn’t readily visible to the guard.

 

“Where’s the other girl?” the guard says. Alicia’s eyebrows pull together. The guard’s voice isn’t muffled, as Alicia expected with the helmet, but rather, the guard sounds more like a Stormtrooper or something. The voice is warped, almost robotic.

 

Luciana, bless her soul, responds in Spanish. Silence follows, and Alicia tries to get a look at the doorway from under the bed without revealing herself. The guard says something else, but it’s not directed at Luciana. As far as Alicia can tell, the guard is talking to someone behind…him? Her? Alicia settles on _them_ because as far as she knows, this guard isn’t even a human being let alone someone with a gender identity.

 

“Step forward,” the guard commands. Alicia turns her head to the side and sees Luciana shuffle toward the door.

 

“Search her,” a more distant but equally robotic voice chimes in.

 

“Where’s the other girl?” the first guard demands. They start their search, roughly patting Luciana down with complete disregard for her shoulder.

 

Luciana answers in Spanish once more, and the second guard outside of the room says, “Great, another one that doesn’t speak English.”

 

“You really think this girl did something to the other?” the first guard asks. “Look at her. She’s injured and unarmed. She’s probably just in the bathroom. I’m going in.”

 

“That’s against protocol,” the second guard says.

 

“The other one isn’t showing herself!”

 

Even though the voice is void of emotion, Alicia can feel the first guard’s frustration in the air. The first guard shoves Luciana back, and turns their back to the room for just a moment. That’s Alicia’s chance. With Luciana safely back, Alicia rolls, spring to her feet, and immediately goes for the gun as the guard’s upper body twists back toward the room. The guard’s finger is braced on the trigger, like an idiot, and all Alicia has to do is force the guard to aim at the second guard standing outside of the room. Alicia squeezes the trigger and fires off at least four shots into the second guard’s chest. She doesn’t know if the all-black uniform is bulletproof, but it’d be kind of stupid if it wasn’t. Either way, the second guard’s knocked off their feet and slams to the concrete on their back.

 

The first guard’s shock has worn off, but Luciana jumps in and locks her arms around the guard’s neck, yanking back. She claws at the helmet, and it detaches and pulls away from the guard’s face. The helmet clatters to the concrete as Alicia wrestles the guard for the assault rifle. The second guard groans and shifts around in Alicia’s peripheral vision, but the impact of the bullets must’ve hurt, because the second guard isn’t getting up or even reaching for their gun.

 

The first guard’s face comes into Alicia’s line of sight the moment after she yanks the assault rifle from the guard’s grasp. The guard’s a young man – maybe even younger than Alicia – and terror blazes in his bright blue eyes. He holds his hands up in surrender as Luciana keeps him in the chokehold. Alicia aims at the guard’s forehead, but she hesitates. He’s a kid. If Alicia had to guess, he’s probably only around eighteen. Maybe even younger. He’s probably just doing what some stupid adult has told him to do. The guard on the ground in the hallway might also just be a kid.

 

Alicia can’t pull the trigger, especially at close range. Plus Luciana’s face is too close to his. Alicia can’t risk missing. She won’t miss. Not at point blank range. But the terror in the kid’s face stops her.

 

“Please don’t shoot me,” the kid whispers.

 

“Luci,” Alicia says softly. “Let him go.” Luciana releases the chokehold and carefully joins Alicia. Alicia jerks her head toward the bathroom and orders, “Go in there. Shut the door. If it opens, I’ll kill you.”

 

He rushes to obey. Alicia and Luciana quickly step out into the hall with the second guard. Alicia wastes no time bending over and yanking the helmet off the second guard’s head. This one’s a woman, probably older than the first guard but not by much. Maybe around Alicia’s age. Her face is splattered with freckles, and she wheezes with each breath she takes. Alicia presses her palm over the bullet holes in the front of the uniform, and though the guard winces, Alicia’s hand comes away without blood. The pain’s probably because the force of the bullets bruised the woman’s chest.

 

Alicia scoops up the second guard’s rifle and passes it to Luciana. Alicia’s eyes scan the hallway, which is lined with steel doors on both sides. Alicia bets Al, June, John, and Morgan are all locked behind a door somewhere in this hallway. If they’re lucky.

 

“The keys,” Luciana reminds. Alicia snatches the key ring off the guard’s belt, but there’s at least fifty keys dangling from the ring. They’re marked with numbers, but the steel doors themselves are blank.

 

“This is going to take forever,” Alicia mutters. The woman’s eyes lock on her, and Alicia presses her lips together as she stares back down. “Try anything, and I’ll shoot you,” Alicia warns. “If you move _at all_ –”

 

“They’ll be coming,” the guard says. It isn’t a warning or a threat. It’s a promise. The guard doesn’t have to move, because she knows her salvation is likely only minutes away. And the guards are protected by their bulletproof uniforms while Alicia and Luciana are not.

 

“Get moving,” Alicia says. She hands the keys off to Luciana. “Find the others.”

 

“And if we have company?” Luciana asks.

 

“I haven’t gotten there yet,” Alicia mutters. “I’m working on it.”

 

Luciana slings the rifle over her shoulder and bangs her fist against the nearest door, calling out the names of their friends. When she gets no response, she moves onto the next door. Then the next. She goes down the line until someone bangs on the door in response.

 

“Luci?” June shouts. Alicia spares one last glance at the guard on the floor before bolting down the hall to join Luciana as she struggles to find the right key. Through the door, Alicia hears June say, “Back off, Al! It’s Luci! You don’t have to tackle anyone anymore.”

 

“June!” Alicia exclaims. “Are you okay? Is Al okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” June says. “And Al is – she’s fine, too. How – how did you get out?”

 

“Long story,” Luciana answers. “We’re going to have company soon. We need to –”

 

The sound of marching boots causes Luciana to cut herself off, and she tries a fifth key. Luciana curses under her breath as Alicia covers her, aiming the rifle in the direction of the incoming guards.

 

“June,” Alicia calls over her shoulder. “Have you seen Al?”

 

“She’s here,” June says, and Alicia exhales in relief. “What about John?” June asks. “Have you seen John?”

 

“We haven’t gotten to him yet,” Luciana says. “We found you first.”

 

“Hurry,” Alicia says.

 

“I’m trying,” Luciana hisses. “Yes!” The right key finally slides into the lock, and Luciana twists it until the lock clicks. The door’s heavier than she anticipated and puts her good shoulder against it, shoving it far enough that June can get her fingers on it and help pull it open. Luciana ducks into the room, and Alicia follows moments before the first guards round the corner and spot them.

 

Luciana hugs June as Alicia’s eyes flick behind them to where Al stands, hands jammed into her pants pockets. Alicia’s eyes widen, and she resists the urge to launch herself at Al. Al’s nose was obviously broken and reset, based on the swelling. Her face, neck, and jacket all bear dried blood. Al is, quite literally, a bloody mess. And she looks just utterly exhausted.

 

“Reunite later,” June says before Alicia can do anything. “We need to plan _now_.”

 

“They’re bulletproof and we’re not,” Luciana says. “I don’t see how we can form much of a plan.”

 

“We can try,” Alicia says. She tears her eyes away from Al. “We have two rifles, and Al’s a damn good shot. If you can get the bullets between their helmet and their armor –”

 

“I’m good, but I don’t know if I’m _that_ good,” Al cuts in. Her voice is distorted thanks to her broken nose, and Alicia can’t help but flinch.

 

“It’s our only shot,” June agrees.

 

“And if they shoot me first?” Al questions.

 

“They’re terrible shots,” Alicia dismisses. “They’re kids, probably younger than me.”

 

“At least, the two we stopped were,” Luciana points out.

 

“So you want me to shoot children?” Al says.

 

“It’s them or us,” June says.

 

“What happened to helping people?” Al grumbles. “Give me that.” She takes the rifle from Alicia and tests its weight before taking up a position near the door. “No one gets to hold shooting children over me,” Al adds.

 

“They’re not children,” Alicia says, rolling her eyes. “They’re teenagers.”

 

“Because that’s so much better.”

 

“Focus, you two,” June interjects. “Please!”

 

Al snaps her jaw shut, gritting her teeth, and she takes aim for the first shot. Alicia stands near the door, directly across from Al. Alicia’s eyes don’t leave Al’s face. Al readjusts her grip three times before Alicia thinks maybe handing the gun to Al wasn’t the best idea. Al’s finger braces against the trigger, and she’s about to squeeze when a voice booms down the hall, echoing off the walls.

 

“Hold your fire!”

 

Al hesitates, and Alicia hears the sound of rifles being lowered in synch. Al’s eyebrows pull together, and though her finger shifts off the trigger, she doesn’t lower the rifle.

 

“What’s happening?” Alicia hisses.

 

Al falters. “They lowered their guns,” she whispers. “Good thing. There’s way too many of them. And –”

 

Footsteps. Just one set, coming down the hall toward them. Alicia abandons her spot at the door for Al’s side, and she grabs onto Al’s bicep as the man comes into view. He’s shorter than Al, balding, wearing circular glasses. Alicia’s first thought is that this guy looks like Dick Cheney, but he’s wearing a white lab coat, the way a doctor would. He’s not even visibly armed, and beneath the lab coat, he’s wearing a button down shirt with a tie. Alicia’s eyes lock onto the last part of the name etched over the breast of the lab coat. Roberts.

 

“Maybe you were right about the government,” Al mutters. Alicia and Luciana exchange a confused glance, but June seems to understand whatever that means.

 

“You can put that down,” Roberts says calmly. “It won’t be necessary.”

 

Al doesn’t lower the rifle, doesn’t stop aiming square at his chest. “Who are you?” Al demands.

 

“You are in no position to be asking questions,” Roberts replies. “Now I suggest you put that gun down before I have someone make you.”

 

“Al,” Alicia murmurs. She tugs Al’s arm down, and reluctantly, Al lowers the rifle.

 

“What are we doing here?” Al asks in blatant disregard for Roberts’s previous comment.

 

“Rifles first,” Roberts says, motioning between the rifle in Al’s hand and the one in Luciana’s.

 

“No,” Alicia blurts. Her grip tightens on Al’s bicep, fingers digging into hard muscle.

 

“Tell you what,” Al negotiates, “We’ll set the rifles toward the back of the room, and we’ll all have a nice chat, yeah?”

 

“No,” Roberts says bluntly. “You are not in charge here.”

 

“And you are?” Al guesses.

 

Roberts smiles thinly and nudges his glasses farther up his nose with his knuckle. “In a way,” he answers. “I think you should listen when I say it’s in your best interest to hand those rifles over.”

 

“No,” Alicia snaps. “What’s going on?”

 

“You will find out,” Roberts says. “I promise. First, the rifles.”

 

Alicia and Al exchange a glance.

 

“Or I will take them by force,” Roberts says, smiling benignly. Al shoves the rifle into his arms but holds her hand out to stop Luciana from stepping forward.

 

“We’re keeping that one for now,” Al says as Luciana trains the barrel on Roberts’s chest. “We want answers.”

 

Alicia doesn’t miss the way Al’s back straightens, emphasizing her height advantage over Roberts, but Al hooks her thumbs through her belt loops, and that kind of ruins the effect. Alicia finally releases Al’s arm but doesn’t move from her side. Alicia realizes that she’s using her body to block Roberts from entering the room, and in a way, she’s shielding both June and Luciana from him as well. Al is, too, but Alicia doesn’t know if Al’s consciously aware of how they’re blocking Roberts’s access to their friends. Alicia swallows hard and snakes her arm around Al’s lower back, knotting her fingers in the material of Al’s jacket.

 

Al continues to stare down at Roberts, and finally, he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. “Let’s start with this,” Roberts says. “Why do you think you’re here?”

 

“Aliens,” Al says.

 

“The government,” June says.

 

“Sex cult,” Alicia jumps in.

 

“You guys have lost your minds,” Luciana mutters.

 

“We aren’t aliens, or the government, or a…sex cult,” Roberts says. He holds his arms out then lets them fall to his sides. “I’m a virologist,” he explains.

 

“Then why are we being held like prisoners?” Al demands. “What’s with the army out there?”

 

“There are over thirty scientists and their families holed up in my home,” Roberts says. “The kids learn to protect themselves.”

 

“And kidnap unsuspecting survivors?” June snorts.

 

“You’re lying,” Alicia accuses.

 

“I am not, I assure you,” Roberts says. “We are doing important work here.”

 

“How?” Al asks. “What are you doing? Why do you have us locked up?”

 

Roberts sighs, and June pipes up with, “And where are our other two friends? John and Morgan?”

 

“We don’t know names,” Roberts says. “We don’t ask for them.”

 

“Your guys shot one of ours,” June shoots, popping up beside Alicia. “Where are they?”

 

A disgruntled look passes Roberts’s face, but he quickly conceals it. He gestures with his right hand, a quick flick of his fingers, and four guards – soldiers? – storm down the hall, flanking him. “I tried to do this the nice way,” Roberts says. “Hand over the other rifle before I authorize them to shoot.”

 

“Hand it over,” Alicia murmurs. She isn’t about to risk Luciana’s life when they’re clearly outnumbered. They’ll have to figure out another way. Luciana passes the rifle to June, and June shoves it at Roberts. He immediately hands it off to one of the soldiers and takes a step back as the soldiers advance.

 

“The leader,” Roberts says. “She goes first. Don’t shoot.”

 

A gloved hand grabs Alicia by the arm and yanks. “Hey!” Alicia exclaims, pushing back against the soldier’s chest. The soldier tugs her into the hall, all while Alicia struggles against the hold on her arm.

 

“Hey! Get your hands off her!” Al commands. She shoves her way forward, grabbing the soldier by the side of the helmet. She immediately slams the soldier’s head into the concrete wall, knocking them off balance and forcing them to release their hold on Alicia’s arm. The soldier hits the floor, and the other soldiers immediately push in. One seizes Alicia by the arm and viciously pulls her away from Al, farther down the hall. The other two lock Al’s arms behind her back, but June immediately goes after the nearest soldier and tries to break their grasp on Al while Al takes on the second soldier holding her.

 

“Hey!” Al screams. The soldiers at the end of the hall part to allow the soldier escorting Alicia to pass through, and she disappears around a corner. “Let her go! Take me!”

 

The one soldier throws June aside, sending her to the floor of the cell. She’s momentarily dazed, but Al doesn’t stop thrashing within the grasps of the soldiers as Roberts looks on.

 

“You’re going to get yourself killed, Miss,” Roberts says.

 

“Bring her back,” Al snarls.

 

“I’ll do you one better,” Roberts says. His gaze turns to the soldiers holding Al. “Take her, too.”

 

“No!” June yells. The door swings shut and locks before June or Luciana can get free. The soldiers shove Al forward, in the same direction Alicia had gone, but she breaks their loosened grasps and immediately goes for Roberts. She gets her hands around his thick neck, but he pulls something from his waistband and swings at Al’s face. Roberts narrowly misses Al’s nose, and he’s not even slightly fazed by her attack. Pain explodes on the left side of Al’s face, and she stumbles back in surprise as Roberts straightens his lab coat and swipes the blood off the blade of his knife.

 

“I told you,” Roberts says calmly. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

 

The soldiers seize Al again as blood spills down the side of her face, and this time, they don’t release her. Al’s jaw clenches, eyes watering from the stinging pain caused by Roberts’s blade, and based on the amount of blood, Al guesses the gash is fairly deep. Drops of blood splatter to the floor, and if I had the chance, she’d kill Roberts with her bare hand, for adding onto her already tremendously high level of pain and for having the audacity to treat Alicia like this.

 

“Don’t fucking bleed on me!” the soldier on Al’s left exclaims. The voice sounds robotic through the helmet, emotionless even.

 

“Oh, calm down,” the other soldier says. “She doesn’t have much longer to bleed, anyway.”

 

“You’re right,” Asshole Soldier, as Al mentally names them, says. Asshole Soldier is on the left, Solder Two is on the right, and neither gives Al any chance to escape. They round another corner, putting them in a hall with only one door at the far end.

 

“What are you talking about?” Al manages to ask. The gaping wound in her left cheek makes speaking almost unbearable, but she does her best to conceal her pain from the two soldiers.

 

Asshole Soldier fucking laughs then shoves Al by the center of the back toward the closed door. “You’ll see,” Asshole Soldier says. “No one has survived yet.”

 

“Survived what?” Al asks through her teeth.

 

“What my dad’s about to do to you and your friend,” Asshole Soldier answers.

 

“I don’t know why he keeps trying,” Soldier Two says as if Al isn’t standing between them and the closed door. As if Al can’t hear every damn word they’re saying.

 

“I don’t know, man,” Asshole Soldier says. “He thinks he just needs that one major breakthrough or whatever. I don’t really care. Where’s the fucking key to the door?”

 

“I thought you had it.”

 

“Just knock,” Asshole Soldier orders. “Chuck should be in there.”

 

Soldier Two bangs their fist on the door then immediately grabs Al by the arm again, twisting her arm back behind her back. She grunts but doesn’t bother to try to fight off Soldier Two. All they have to do is jab a finger against the wound in her face or touch her nose and she’ll go down. Besides, Alicia is most likely behind that door.

 

“I don’t think Chuck’s in there,” Soldier Two says.

 

“You didn’t knock hard enough,” Asshole Soldier retorts. Al’s knocked off balance when Asshole Soldier shoves her aside to reach the door, banging against it continuously until it opens. “Told you Chuck was there,” Asshole Soldier says.

 

“For the last time,” the soldier standing in the doorway says, “it’s Charles, you prick.”

 

“Whatever,” Asshole Soldier mutters. “Here’s another one.”

 

They pull Al through the doorway, and suddenly being probed by aliens doesn’t seem like such an outlandish idea. Al’s eyes widen at the display in front of her. The center of the room is occupied by two metal tables with wrist and ankle restraints. Off to the side is a tray of instruments. And chained to the back wall are decapitated, decaying bodies.

 

“Al!” Alicia shouts, drawing Al’s eyes to the metal table on the left. Her wrists and ankles are restrained, and Alicia lifts her head as the soldiers force Al onto the empty table and snap the restraints around her ankles.

 

“Are you okay?” Al asks.

 

“Given everything we’re seeing?” Alicia says. “Yeah. I’m great. You?”

 

“Bleeding again,” Al replies. “But what else is new?”

 

She winces as Asshole Soldier shoves her by the chest down onto the table and snaps the restraints around her wrists. Asshole Soldier yanks the helmet off, revealing a young man with wild hair and the exact same color eyes as Roberts. He smirks and tightens the restraints so the metal digs into Al’s wrists. The door opens once more, and Roberts steps in. He removes the lab coat and hangs it on a coat rack in the corner. He starts rolling the sleeves of his button down shirt then waves his hands in dismissal.

 

“Charles, Eric, you’re dismissed,” Roberts says. Soldier Two and Charles take off without question, leaving Al with Asshole Soldier – Roberts’s son? – still hovering over her. “Derrick, if you aren’t going to behave, leave,” Roberts says sternly, but Asshole Soldier – Derrick Roberts – interrupts.

 

“You need backup, Dad,” Derrick says. “In case one of these whores tries something.”

 

Roberts sighs. “I apologize for my son. I really tried with him, but once his mother died –”

 

“Don’t make this about Mom,” Derrick snaps. “Can you just kill these two already? I missed lunch.”

 

“Please, ignore him,” Roberts says. He starts going through his tray of instruments. Al turns her head to the right, toward Alicia, and finds Alicia already staring in horror at her. Alicia fights against her wrist restraints, but they’re bolted into the table. She’s not going anywhere, and neither is Al.

 

“What are you doing?” Al finally asks, although her mouth has gone dry.

 

“One day, all of this will end,” Roberts says. “Those abominations will no longer walk the Earth, but the only way that’s going to happen…” He trails off, holding up a large syringe with an equally large needle sticking out of it. “Is if someone finds a way to protect us from them,” Roberts finishes.

 

“What?” Alicia says.

 

“Try to keep up,” Derrick shoots.

 

“Derrick,” Roberts says. “Stop talking, please.”

 

“Yeah, Derrick,” Al spits. “Shut it.”

 

Derrick raises his fist, but Roberts drops the syringe back onto the tray and rushes to stop Derrick from bringing his fist down on Al’s face. “Do I need to escort you out?” Roberts asks in a dangerously quiet voice.

 

“No, Dad,” Derrick mutters.

 

“Go stand in the corner. Now,” Roberts commands. To Al’s surprise, Derrick obeys. “I sincerely apologize for my son’s behavior. As I was saying, these creatures,” Roberts gestures toward the back wall where the headless corpses hang, “only live because of a virus.”

 

“Tell us something we don’t know,” Alicia says.

 

“It’s highly unlikely we could ever find a way to cure this affliction,” Roberts says. He picks the syringe back up. “But I’ve been working on something else.”

 

Al’s eyes track Roberts’s every move. He steps between the tables and goes to a cabinet in the back corner that Al didn’t see on her initial sweep of the room. He pulls two vials of a dark, mucky looking liquid out of the cabinet and holds them where Al and Alicia can both see them.

 

“Not a cure,” Roberts says, “but a vaccine.”

 

“Then what do you need us for?” Alicia asks. Her eyes lock with Al’s, and they both know the answer long before Roberts says it.

 

“Vaccines need to be tested,” Roberts says gently. “I’ve taken samples of the virus to create many, _many_ vaccines. So far, none have been successful.”

 

“You’re mad,” Al blurts. “This thing can’t be – you can’t prevent it!”

 

“Once the vaccine is injected,” Roberts says, choosing to ignore Al’s comment, “we wait to see if your body can fend off this form of the virus.”

 

“It can’t,” Alicia says. “You know that!”

 

“Don’t be so certain, young lady,” Roberts says. He stabs the needle into one of the vials and extracts the mud-like liquid until the syringe is full. “Some people have fended it off, believe it or not.”

 

“Then why did your asshole son say no one has survived?” Al demands.

 

Roberts presses his lips together. He crosses between the tables to set the empty vial and full vial on the tray, gingerly holding the syringe. “They don’t survive the second phase,” Roberts says.

 

“Which is?” Al says, eyes narrowing.

 

“Seeing if the vaccine actually works.”

 

“The heads,” Al says. “In the trees.”

 

“Those already served their purpose,” Roberts says.

 

Al’s eyes lock back onto Alicia’s face. She flinches at the utter terror in Alicia’s eyes, and Al says, directly to Alicia, “Even if they survive the vaccine, they never survive the bite.”

 

“Not yet,” Roberts confirms. He smiles thinly. “But who knows? Maybe you’ll be the first.”

 

Derrick snorts from his corner of the room. “Unlikely. You’ll just be two more on a list of hundreds dead.”

 

“This is fucking insane,” Al says.

 

“This is _so_ much worse than a sex cult,” Alicia moans. Al doesn’t entirely get what Alicia’s talking about, but she agrees. A sex cult – or even aliens – would be better than this.

 

“Derrick, make yourself useful,” Roberts says. He picks up a clipboard and a pen and slaps it into Derrick’s hands. “Take notes.”

 

“Why?” Derrick grumbles. “We already know what happens.”

 

“Just do it, Derrick!”

 

Al inhales deeply, not daring to look away from Alicia. “I’m sorry,” Al says.

 

“No, I am,” Alicia says. “If I would’ve just stayed put –”

 

“If I wouldn’t have –”

 

“Oh, shut _up_ ,” Derrick interrupts. Al turns her head to the other side to glare across the room at him.

 

“You better hope this thing fucking kills me,” Al snaps. “Or I’m coming for you first, asshole.”

 

“I’d like to see you try.”

 

“Derrick,” Roberts cuts in. “Stop talking, or you’ll be the next person I strap to this table.”

 

Derrick’s jaw snaps shut. Al’s eyes return to Alicia’s face, and Roberts inspects the syringe, peering down his nose and flicking the needle.

 

“I’m sorry,” Al repeats.

 

“It’s my fault,” Alicia replies.

 

“No,” Al whispers. She looks to Roberts. “Let me go first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so pumped for 5x05, you don't even understand. I'm already bouncing ideas around for more fics and I haven't even seen the episode yet (but I DID see some spoilers and I'm really excited and pleased). I have a shitload of homework to do, but there's so much I want to write lol, so be ready.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts/questions/concerns in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


	16. 16

Al isn’t afraid to die. She’s stared down death too many times to count, even before the dead began to walk. She barely has to think about volunteering to go first. Maybe it’ll buy Alicia valuable minutes, a way out. As unlikely as that is, Al can’t fathom allowing Alicia to go first. Al grits her teeth, focusing on the pain it causes her cheek, which continues to ooze blood, and frankly, her nose. She’s lucky Roberts didn’t let Derrick land a hit on her, or her nose would’ve broken a second time for sure.

 

“No,” Alicia says, interrupting Al’s thoughts. “No, you can’t go first. Let me go first. Please.”

 

“No,” Al insists. “It should be me.”

 

“Please,” Alicia whispers. “Please don’t do this to me, Al.”

 

Al’s eyes sting, but she squeezes them shut until it stops. “I’m going first,” Al tells Roberts. “Alicia, I love you.”

 

“Dad, _please_ ,” Derrick groans, “do it already. I’m tired of having to listen to this gay shit.”

 

“Derrick! What did I say?” Roberts booms, startling Al, Alicia, and Derrick. “I will move at my own pace.” He pauses, eyes flicking between Alicia and Al. “So have we decided who’s going first, then?”

 

“I am,” Alicia and Al say together, but Al reasserts, “It’s going to be me. Don’t listen to her.”

 

“We have two brave ones this time,” Roberts chuckles. “Normally, they try to throw each other under the bus. If you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to pull your sleeve up.” As if Al has any choice. Roberts tugs the sleeves of Al’s jacket and button down shirt up to expose her inner arm then taps his fingers against her hand. “Make a fist, please.”

 

“Al, don’t,” Alicia begs. “Please don’t do this!”

 

“So you two are a couple?” Roberts questions.

 

“What does it matter?” Al asks through her teeth.

 

“Couples tend to fare better in the first phase,” Roberts explains. “They seem to be more motivated to survive than when we test two strangers or even two friends.”

 

“But no one survives the second phase, so what does it matter?” Al snaps.

 

“Make a note,” Roberts says to Derrick. “Subjects 304 and 305 are a couple. I’ll want to reflect on how their results compare to the other couples we’ve had.”

 

Derrick scribbles it down on the clipboard. Roberts inspects the needle once more and begins to search for a vein. Alicia yanks on her restraints, even though the metal digs into her wrists and threatens to draw blood.

 

“Relax, please,” Roberts says over his shoulder to Alicia. “Fighting is pointless.”

 

“Don’t!” Alicia snarls. “Don’t you dare fucking touch her!”

 

“Shut up! For fuck’s sake!” Derrick blurts.

 

“ _DERRICK!_ ” Roberts yells, slamming the fist not holding the syringe against the metal of the table, beside Al’s thigh. Roberts hisses, maneuvering around the table to gently rest the syringe on the tray of instruments once more as he clutches at his hand. Al exhales heavily, eyes flicking between Roberts at the end of the table and Alicia across from her. Alicia continues to strain against the cuffs holding her to the table, even as beads of blood roll down her wrists. Roberts takes a few deep breaths to calm himself, but his left hand trembles. Derrick cowers in the corner, brandishing the clipboard like his dad’s about to charge at him.

 

“Sorry,” Derrick finally mumbles.

 

“One more word,” Roberts warns. “One more word, and you’re subject 306. Don’t test me, Derrick.”

 

“Sorry,” Derrick repeats.

 

Roberts returns to the cabinet in the back of the room and rummages through it until he finds a bottle of pain pills and pops a few.

 

“Alicia, stop,” Al whispers. “Your wrists.”

 

An incredulous look crosses Alicia’s face. Alicia fights against the cuffs harder than before, her wrists be damned. The blood won’t matter if she’s dead, which she’s about to be if they don’t free themselves _soon_. Roberts heads back to his tray of instruments then pauses.

 

“I know you ladies must think I’m a monster,” Roberts says, resting his good hand at the end of Al’s table, next to her boot. “But really, this is for the greater good – for the survival of all of humanity.”

 

“This is fucking insane. That’s what this is,” Alicia replies. “You’re killing people for no reason!”

 

“For humanity,” Roberts corrects.

 

“Seems like you could use a bit of that,” Al spits. “Your good bedside manner doesn’t make up for the fact that you’re about to inject me with the guts of the dead.”

 

“It’s not the guts of the dead,” Roberts dismisses. “I do incorporate some fluids –”

 

Al could throw up, if she wasn’t strapped to a table about to have the bodily fluids of a walking corpse injected into her veins. Maybe fighting the restraints isn’t such a bad idea after all. It’s a good thing her ankles are strapped down, otherwise she would’ve totally kicked Roberts in the dick by now.

 

“We should get moving,” Roberts declares. “I, too, missed lunch.”

 

“Don’t,” Alicia pleads. “Please –”

 

Derrick snorts. “We’ve had people beg harder than that, lady. Crying and shit –”

 

This kid really doesn’t know when to shut up. Roberts, moving faster than Al would’ve ever guessed he could, crosses the room and seizes Derrick by the front of his uniform, shoving him back into the wall. Al’s eyes go from Roberts back to Alicia. Alicia’s eyes are closed, lips silently moving. Alicia doesn’t strike Al as the praying type, but maybe they should both be praying for their salvation, because nothing short of a miracle is going to save them.

 

 _Just her_ Al thinks desperately. She even glances up at the ceiling, as if that’s where some higher power dwells. _Just save her. I don’t care what happens to me._ Al has a bad feeling that, if Alicia is in fact praying, she’s praying for the same thing Al is: the other person’s safety. Al amends her mental prayer quickly. _If Alicia’s telling you to save me, don’t listen to her. I’ve lived longer. She’s a better asset to the world or whatever. Just save her. Please._

While Roberts blows up at his son, a faint but distinctive sound occurs somewhere outside of the room. Al and Alicia’s eyes immediately lock, and Al grins. She doesn’t know exactly what the sound means – it might even be a bad thing – but it’s at least a distraction. Roberts hears it, too, because he releases Derrick and snatches the clipboard from him.

 

“What was that?” Roberts hisses.

 

“Um…a gunshot?” Derrick says. Before he finishes speaking, more shots are fired.

 

“Who is shooting?” Roberts demands. “I didn’t give any orders to shoot!”

 

“Did someone break out?” Derrick asks timidly.

 

“Impossible!”

 

“Well, not really,” Derrick reminds, motioning vaguely toward Alicia and Al.

 

“We had it contained! No other cells were to be opened! I gave the orders!”

 

Derrick shrugs and picks up his rifle. “I can go see –”

 

“You stay here!” Roberts snaps. “Guard the door!”

 

Roberts pushes the tray of instruments toward the back cabinet as the gunshots grow nearer. Neither Al nor Alicia dares to speak. Even if Roberts isn’t about to inject that sludge into their veins right this instant, they aren’t willing to risk Roberts taking his frustration out on them through violence instead. Alicia stops fighting against the restraints, giving her raw, bloodied wrists a break, though her hands clench into fists.

 

 _Please be a good thing_ Al thinks. The gunshots are practically right outside the room, and Roberts scrambles to…save his research? He’s doing something back by that cabinet, but Al’s more concerned about who’s coming through that door. Unless, of course, they aren’t coming for them at all. Then they’re back to being utterly fucked, but Al can’t help but hope this is their rescue squad.

 

The door flies open, smacking right into Derrick and knocking him off balance, and Al laughs in delirious surprise and relief.

 

“John!” Alicia exclaims. John Dorie, minus his revolvers and hat, steps into the room with one of the young soldiers on his tail. They both clutch rifles, and John immediately presses the barrel of his to Derrick’s forehead.

 

“Drop it, son,” John warns. Derrick’s rifle clatters to the floor as Alicia sits up as far as she possibly can, eyebrows pulled together. “On your knees,” John adds as the young soldier shifts around John to get into the room.

 

“You?” Alicia questions.

 

“What?” Al says. The young soldier with bright blue eyes aims his rifle at Roberts, but Roberts is already holding his hands up in surrender.

 

“I – I spared him when I first broke out of my cell,” Alicia says.

 

“Ethan,” the kid says. His voice and his hands shake, but he stands tall. “Thanks for not shooting me.”

 

“I – yeah,” Alicia says dumbly. “What –?”

 

“I should’ve known,” Roberts says, calm as ever. “When my heads went missing –”

 

“I tried to warn you guys,” Ethan says. “The heads in the parking lot? The bathroom graffiti?”

 

“That was you?” Alicia questions.

 

“Yeah. I guess you didn’t listen,” Ethan says. He makes his way to Alicia’s table and releases the restraints. Alicia immediately springs up, rushing to free Al. Alicia struggles, the blood on her hands making the metal awfully slippery, but she gets the restraints undone and pulls Al from the table to her feet. Alicia immediately wraps her arms around Al’s neck, apparently forgetting their current hostage situation, and Al barely manages to get her arms around Alicia before Alicia lets go, wincing and staring down at her wrists.

 

“We’ll take care of that soon,” Al assures her.

 

“Your face,” Alicia whispers.

 

“Don’t worry about my face.”

 

“It’s still bleeding.”

 

Al grins crookedly, but she’s unable to keep herself from grimacing immediately after. “It’s okay,” she tells Alicia, squeezing her shoulder. “I’m good. June will take care of it.” Speaking of June, Al turns toward John and asks, “Where are they? June, Luci, Morgan?”

 

“June and Luci are with Morgan,” John says. “He was hit when we were taken.”

 

“But he’s okay?” Alicia questions.

 

“Upper arm,” John grunts. “June’s working on it.”

 

“And the other soldiers?” Al asks.

 

John smirks. “I never told you what I used to do, did I? I specialize in trick shots.”

 

“You gunned them down?” Roberts exclaims. “They’re kids!”

 

“They were holding us hostage and pointing guns at us,” John points out. He hasn’t moved the barrel of his rifle from Derrick’s forehead, and Ethan continues to hold Roberts at gunpoint despite his obvious shakiness. “That doesn’t sound like the sort of thing kids do.” John pauses then grumbles, “Besides, I mostly blew out kneecaps, anyway. Guess that bulletproof armor doesn’t extend past the chest.”

 

“John, I could kiss you,” Al says.

 

“I don’t think my lady – or yours – would like that very much,” John says, “but I appreciate the sentiment.”

 

“No, I agree,” Alicia says, grinning. “I could kiss you, too.”

 

Al grabs John by the side of his head and plants one on his cheek before picking up Derrick’s rifle. She checks the magazine. It’s full. “How’d you manage this?” Al finally asks.

 

“Ethan broke me out,” John says, jerking his head in Ethan’s direction. “Got me this gun, though it doesn’t quite compare to my revolvers. That’s on the list, believe me. I have a plan.”

 

Al raises her eyebrows. “You’ve got a plan?”

 

“Of course. I know I’m pretty, but my brain works, too,” he jokes. “Step one: free Al and Alicia. Done. Step two: retrieve June, Luci, and Morgan. Step three: get our stuff and get out.”

 

“Easier said than done,” Alicia says. “I’m not even armed.”

 

“Then stay close,” Al says.

 

“Wait,” Alicia says, grabbing Al by the arm. “What do we do with these two?”

 

Al hesitates. She exchanges a glance with John. “We’re supposed to help people,” Al says. “Letting them experiment on unsuspecting survivors to develop a vaccine that will never exist isn’t exactly helpful, right?”

 

“We can’t just walk away,” Alicia agrees. “But that doesn’t tell us what to do. What, are we gonna slaughter everyone in the murder mansion? We aren’t murderers – well, we aren’t _mass_ murderers.”

 

“He’s the man in charge,” Al says quietly, nodding toward Roberts. “He was going to inject the bodily fluids of corpses into our blood.” Al turns her attention to Derrick, whimpering beneath John’s rifle. “And he’s just an asshole,” Al complains.

 

“It’s your call,” John says quietly. Alicia almost speaks, but John’s eyes are locked squarely on Al’s bloodied face. Al’s eyes flick over to Alicia.

 

“We’ll take them with us,” Al decides. “For now. I don’t – I think we should talk to Morgan, June, and Luci before we do anything else.”

 

“Okay,” John says. “Ethan, bud, can you get these two cuffed?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Ethan says.

 

“Don’t call me _sir_ ,” John replies.

 

“Sorry, s – uh, sorry.”

 

Ethan pulls a set of handcuffs from his belt and passes them to Alicia, who hands them off to Al.

 

“Give me your wrist,” Al orders. When Derrick just blankly stares up at her, she growls, “Or my friend here’s gonna splatter your brains against the wall.” Derrick doesn’t need to know that John doesn’t like killing. Besides, the threat gets Derrick to hold his wrist up. Al snaps the cuff around his wrist then shoves him down to the floor, planting her boot in the center of his back as she secures his wrists behind him.

 

“Bitch,” Derrick spits, struggling to roll onto his side.

 

“I changed my mind,” Al says, aiming her rifle down at Derrick’s head. “ _I’ll_ splatter your brains –”

 

“Al,” Alicia warns.

 

Derrick has the audacity to smile and say, “Looks like you’re the whipped one, huh?”

 

Al slams the butt of the rifle against the back of Derrick’s head, and that finally shuts him up, since he’s knocked unconscious. “Watch him,” Al says wryly to John, stepping over Derrick’s limp body and crossing to the back of the room where Ethan’s just getting Roberts handcuffed. Just as Al gets there, Roberts seizes Ethan’s rifle while he’s distracted with the cuffs and sends it up into Ethan’s nose, swiftly breaking it and sending him stumbling back. Ethan’s hold on the rifle loosens enough for Roberts to yank it away from him, and Al doesn’t stop to think, doesn’t hesitate one moment. She raises her rifle and fires directly at Roberts’s chest.

 

The rifle in his hands clatters to the ground, and Al kicks it back toward Alicia as Roberts falls forward.

 

“You good, kid?” Al asks over her shoulder.

 

“I think my nose is broken,” Ethan says through the blood pouring out of his nose.

 

Al huffs. “Join the club. We’ll get our friend to look at it.”

 

“He’s going to get back up,” John reminds. Al lifts the rifle again and puts a bullet through the back of Roberts’s skull to seal the deal then exhales. She hasn’t had to personally kill another person in a while, and even though he more than deserved it, Al can’t help but feel a little shaky. She looks back over at John, and he continues to hover over Derrick as he begins to regain consciousness.

 

With her boot, Al shoves Roberts’s body away from the cabinet and tries not to think about how she’s standing in his blood. She slings the rifle across her back and yanks the cabinet open, eyes scanning its contents. It’s mostly equipment – and a wide assortment of pain pills – so wherever they’re manufacturing vaccines, it isn’t in here.

 

“Al,” John says. “We need to get moving. I’m sure we’re about to have more company.”

 

Al shuts the cabinet and heads to the tray of instruments where the syringe full of the current version of the vaccine still sits. There’s a cap on the tray beside the syringe, and Al carefully slots it over the needle then tucks the whole thing inside her jacket. She turns to Alicia, now armed with Ethan’s rifle, and nods. Something in Alicia’s expression is off, but Al can’t figure out why, and she doesn’t have the time to deal with that right now.

 

“Dad?” Derrick mumbles.

 

“Shut up,” Al snaps. “Get up, or you’re next.”

 

“Al,” Alicia says quietly.

 

“He’s lucky I’m even letting him live,” Al replies. She grabs him by the arm and yanks him up, shoving him toward the door. He stumbles, catching himself against the wall with his shoulder. “He gets to go out there first.”

 

“Let’s all just calm down a bit,” John says gently.

 

“You weren’t there,” Al says.

 

“Okay,” John agrees, “I wasn’t there, but he might be useful.”

 

“Unlikely,” Alicia mutters. She motions for Ethan to walk ahead of her. “John, you lead. I’ll watch Derrick, and Al, bring up the back.”

 

“Where do you think my hat’s at?” John asks. He jabs the barrel of his rifle into Derrick’s side. “I’m talking to you.”

 

Derrick grits his teeth but says, “It’s probably with the rest of your shit.”

 

“Which is where?” John questions.

 

“There’s a room upstairs where all new recruits are processed,” Derrick explains. “Your stuff is stored there.”

 

“Lovely,” John says. “That’s our next stop after we get our friends.”

 

John leads them down the hall of cells, where most of the soldiers he shot are still gathered, either dead or unable to get up. Most are alive and winding bandages around their knees, but all their guns are mysteriously gone.

 

“Where are their guns?” Alicia asks.

 

“Luciana collected them all,” John answers. “They’re probably piled in the cell with Morgan.”

 

John is proven right when they reach the cell. Al stands at the back of the group, warily watching the soldiers behind them, but without their guns and unable to stand up, they’re practically useless. And they’re mostly kids, Al remembers. Maybe some of them are even like Ethan, unwilling to participate in this anymore. Al glances back toward the cell, but June’s just now setting Ethan’s nose, and Luciana’s checking magazines on the rifles.

 

“Are you guys okay?” June calls the moment she finishes with Ethan. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

 

“No,” Al answers. “Just dodged a bullet.”

 

“Who’s this?” Morgan grunts, gesturing toward Derrick. Without his stick for support – and now that he’s been shot in the arm, which is wound tightly with bandages – Morgan is forced to lean against the wall for support. Al figures someone’s going to have to help support him.

 

“An asshole,” Al answers.

 

“He’s our guide,” Alicia adds. “So we can get our stuff.”

 

“What happened to the doctor?” Luciana asks.

 

There’s an awkward pause before Al says, “I killed him.”

 

“ _You_ did?” Derrick asks.

 

“Yeah. What’re you gonna do about it?” Al taunts.

 

“Okay, we’re all upset,” Morgan mediates. Derrick seethes, but his hands are bound behind his back, so his options are limited.

 

“ _Upset_?” Al exclaims. “They were going to inject us with a vaccine with a one hundred percent kill rate. You’re damn right I’m _upset_.”

 

“Wait,” June says. “What? A vaccine?”

 

“For the infection spread by the dead,” Al says. She reaches into her jacket and frees the syringe. “This asshole’s father creates vaccines and tests them on the people they hold down here.”

 

A loud sound in the distance, which might be some sort of explosion, interrupts the discussion, and Derrick uses the momentary distraction to his advantage. He body slams Al into the wall and tries to take off. Al releases the rifle in favor of preventing the syringe from hitting the ground, and as she goes down, she manages to swipe Derrick’s feet out from under him. He lands hard on his back, getting the wind knocked out of him, and Al stops thinking once more.

 

Well, actually, she does think. She thinks they aren’t going to be able to do anything with this vaccine except destroy it, so she pulls the cap off the needle and jams it into Derrick’s leg, injecting the full contents of the syringe before he even knows what’s happened. He lifts his head just in time to see the empty syringe sticking out of his leg, eyes widening, and Alicia hauls Al to her feet by the front of her jacket, pulling her just out of the reach of Derrick’s boots.

 

“What were you thinking?” Alicia whispers in horror.

 

“What were we gonna do with it?” Al asks. “Who knows?” She turns her eyes down to Derrick and watches the color leave his face. “Maybe he’ll survive phase one.”

 

“Al, that was –” Morgan starts, but Al cuts in and finishes his sentence for him.

 

“Incredibly impulsive and maybe stupid, but I’ve had my brains knocked all around the past few hours, so I’m not thinking straight.”

 

“Let’s just go,” Alicia says. “We aren’t done yet.”

 

“What about the rest of the people locked up in here?” John asks. “Shouldn’t we set them free?”

 

Alicia hesitates, looking to Morgan. “I don’t know,” Alicia admits. “We don’t know what kind of people they are.”

 

“They’re probably like us,” Luciana says. “Desperately trying to survive.”

 

“I’ll take care of them,” Ethan volunteers. “I have keys, and my dad’s, um, he’s the head of security here. He was the one who suggested I leave a warning for you, so I’m sure he’ll forgive me.”

 

Luciana hands Ethan a rifle. “Stay safe,” she says.

 

“The processing room is right off the front of the house,” Ethan says. “You can’t miss it.” He glances down at Derrick. “What about him?”

 

“Leave him,” Al says smoothly. “He’s as good as dead.” Al’s eyes lock with Derrick’s, and she adds, “You really shouldn’t have threatened my girlfriend, buddy.”

 

Luciana and Morgan exchange a confused look, but Al’s already leading the way back down the hall. They all have no choice but to follow. Luciana helps Morgan walk, and as they pass by Derrick, he begins to convulse. Morgan hesitates, but Luciana shakes her head and pulls him along.

 

The sound of boots forces Al to stop, and the group braces themselves for a firefight, but it’s just two sets of boots, and the two people stop in the entrance. Every gun is immediately lowered, and Alicia bursts out laughing, rushing forward past Al to launch herself into Victor’s arms.

 

“How did you get here?” Alicia asks as she releases Victor. She claps Charlie on the shoulder as the rest of the group quickly joins them. Charlie quits leaning on Morgan’s walking stick and returns it to him.

 

Victor smiles. “Maybe you heard when I crashed our truck into the side of the house?”

 

“That was _you_?” Al questions. “That sounded like an explosion.”

 

“It’s some kind of armored military vehicle,” Victor dismisses. “It’s completely undamaged, but it’s probably swarmed with people by now.”

 

“He didn’t really mean to crash into the house,” Charlie pipes up. “It just sort of happened.”

 

“How did you even find us?” Alicia asks.

 

“Sheer dumb luck,” Victor answers with a wink. He motions for Charlie to hand him the backpack from her back, and Victor takes it and hands it off to Alicia. “I think you guys are missing a few things.”

 

Alicia digs through the bag and finds the camcorder, John’s revolver and hat, and her gun barrel. She gives John his things but hesitates when she spots the camcorder. Handing Al a camera right now probably isn’t the best thing to do, but Alicia pulls it free and holds it out anyway. Al, though, just blinks.

 

“Hang onto that for me,” Al says.

 

“Who are you and what have you done with Althea…um, I don’t know your last name,” Victor says.

 

“And trust me, you don’t want to know it,” Al replies. She pauses. “Maybe some stories aren’t worth chasing.”

 

“Your brains really were knocked around, huh?” June teases. Al manages a weak smile and glances back down the hall where Derrick's body continues to seize. She almost feels a pang of guilt, but it passes quickly.

 

Victor puts his hands on his hips and looks back down the connecting hall. “If we’re going to retrieve our ride out of here, we’re going to need a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm actually not as sure about this chapter as I've been with almost all of the other ones. I'd love to hear your thoughts about it in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible. As always, thanks so much for reading!


	17. 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! Life got a little crazy for a few days there, but hopefully it'll be better now! Hope you enjoy it!

Victor’s plan to lure the inhabitants of the murder mansion away from their ride is stupidly simple. He aims to send Charlie off with a handgun to the opposite end of the house and tells her to fire at some of the expensive decorations that adorn the house until she draws the attention of the soldiers. Then she’ll just have to use her skills to swiftly slip away and rejoin the group. It’s so stupidly simple, no one thinks it’s a solid plan except Victor and Charlie.

 

“So we’re risking the kid’s life again?” Al questions.

 

“Are you volunteering to be the distraction?” Victor asks.

 

Al shrugs and waves her hand over her face. “Have you seen me lately? They can’t do much worse to me, can they? I might as well –”

 

“No,” Alicia cuts in sharply. “You aren’t being the distraction.”

 

Al’s eyebrows raise, but that’s not a fight she picks. Not right now, anyway. Besides, Charlie jumps in and saves her by saying, “You’re way too big and easy to spot. I’m smaller and quicker – no offense. I can do this.”

 

“It’s settled,” Victor says with a smile. Alicia purses her lips. Charlie may be confident about this, but Alicia’s not. Frankly, Alicia also doesn’t have a better idea at the moment, so she can’t dispute the current plan very well.

 

“You know our plans always go flawlessly,” Alicia says wryly. “You know. Like flying a plane over a mountain to help a guy that didn’t need it.”

 

“Yes, we know,” Morgan sighs. “That plan didn’t work.”

 

“You mean it failed spectacularly and we’re all lucky to be alive,” Alicia corrects. “Whatever. If this plan doesn’t work, it’s on you guys. I agree with Al. I don’t think we should be using Charlie as bait.”

 

“I can do it,” Charlie insists.

 

“But you shouldn’t have to,” Alicia snaps. She looks from Victor to Morgan to Al. “I’ll do it.”

 

“No,” Al says. “That’s not happening.”

 

“I can handle myself,” Alicia replies.

 

“So can I,” Charlie says. “Alicia, just let me do this.”

 

“We need to decide quickly,” Victor says. “I don’t mean to rush you, but the longer we wait, the more likely it is we’ll be going on foot. And that’s a long, _long_ walk.”

 

“No,” Alicia says, holding her hand up. “I have a better idea.”

 

“You call this better?” Luciana hisses as she, Alicia, Victor, and Charlie sprint across the massive front lawn toward where John abandoned their truck the night before.

 

“Better than sending Charlie by herself to distract a bunch of armed guards,” Alicia replies. “Um…” They reach the spot Alicia _thought_ John parked the truck, but apparently not, because it isn’t there. “Okay. So it’s probably farther out.”

 

“You don’t remember?” Victor questions.

 

“I got hit in the head,” Alicia defends. “My memories are a little hazy.”

 

“Unless they took the truck somewhere else,” Luciana points out. “Then it’s just gone.”

 

“No, it’s definitely farther,” Alicia says. Just then, she hears gunfire, which means Al, John, June, and Morgan have fucked up their part of the plan – the _easy_ part – which is _don’t be spotted_.

 

“We need to hurry,” Victor says.

 

Alicia swallows hard but tries not to worry too much about her friends. Mostly Al. The gunfire continues, and Alicia’s search for the truck becomes a little more frantic.

 

“This is a bad plan,” Luciana groans. “Almost as bad as your plan to hide under the bed.”

 

“Okay, but in a way, that worked out,” Alicia replies.

 

“We got lucky,” Luciana says.

 

“Exactly,” Alicia agrees. “There!”

 

The truck comes into view, and Alicia hops into the driver’s seat. They pile in, even though Charlie’s stuck on Luciana’s lap. It’s okay. It won’t be a long ride. Alicia tugs nervously on her seatbelt, pulling it tighter across her hips. She grips onto the steering wheel with two hands as she rolls up on the military vehicle. It’s abandoned, both by the guards and their friends.

 

“Get out,” Alicia orders.

 

“What?” Victor says. “Alicia, this isn’t the plan.”

 

“I lied about the plan,” Alicia replies. “So get out.”

 

Luciana pops the door open as Victor asks, “Then what’s the real plan?”

 

“You let me worry about that. Go. Get the truck out of the side of the house, and get our friends.”

 

“We won’t leave without you,” Charlie insists. Victor, Charlie, and Luciana stand outside of the truck, but they don’t close the passenger’s door just yet.

 

“I’ll be back,” Alicia assures her. “Trust me.”

 

Victor presses his lips together but shuts the door. Alicia waits until Victor and Luciana unload the back of the truck, quickly. It’s just a few bags of their clothes, mostly. For a moment, Alicia watches Charlie and Luciana chuck the bags into the back of the military truck as Victor gets in the driver’s seat. Alicia takes a deep breath and throws the truck in reverse, whipping around. This is probably her stupidest idea ever, so damn it, it better work. She rolls the windows down and listens for the sound of gunfire. The sound is a little more muted, coming from somewhere inside the house but not near where Victor crashed their escape vehicle.

 

Alicia maneuvers the truck in front of the other side of the house and steels herself. Every nerve in her body screams at her to stop, but her mind tells her to do it. She pulls on her seatbelt once more then slams her boot onto the accelerator, driving the truck straight through the side of the house. She squeezes her eyes shut before the impact, which isn’t nearly as bad as she was expecting. She’s thrown around a bit, but the seatbelt does its job and keeps her mostly in place. Her head hits the airbag, making her see stars as the earth begins to spin, but the truck is brought to a stop in a living room of some sort. It’s tastefully decorated, but the truck did send the couch across the room.

 

Alicia waits for the guards to inevitably surround her and shoot her dead or inject her with some experimental vaccine. She resigns herself to her fate, mentally hoping Al will forgive her for her stupidity, as the driver’s side door is yanked open. Alicia feels hands at her waist, fumbling to release her seatbelt, and Alicia blinks until her vision stops blurring, focusing in on the face of her captor.

 

“Al?” Alicia says. Her voice sounds warped to her ears, and she thinks she’s tasting blood.

 

“Yeah,” Al says. She gets the seatbelt undone and grabs Alicia by the arm, hauling her out of the driver’s seat. “Can you walk?” Al asks, but the moment Alicia’s feet hit the ground, her knees buckle. “I’ll take that as a no,” Al mutters. “Okay, hang on.”

 

Al sweeps Alicia off her feet onto her shoulder, locking her arms around Alicia’s legs, and Alicia just tries to keep herself from slipping off. As much as she doubts Al’s going to drop her, she can’t be too safe. So she grasps onto a handful of the back of Al’s jacket and stays put as Al runs. It isn’t the most comfortable experience in the world, but it could be worse. The next thing Alicia knows, she’s being helped into the back of the military truck by John and Luciana.

 

“Drive,” June calls. She hovers in the aisle between the two sets of seats, over Alicia, waving John, Luciana, and Al out of the way.

 

“It’s going to collapse,” Charlie observes, head poking out of the back of the vehicle.

 

“Charlie, get away from there,” Al orders

 

“Sit down while we’re moving, sweetie,” June says.

 

“Guys, I’m not a child,” Charlie mutters, but she takes a seat anyway. Alicia manages to prop herself up on her arms, but her head hasn’t quite stopped spinning, and that combined with Victor’s driving is almost enough to make her pass out. There’s a _very_ loud sound that Alicia can’t quite pinpoint, and her eyes turn to June as June continues her examination.

 

“What was that?” Alicia mumbles.

 

She watches June exchange a glance with Al before June answers, “The house collapsed.”

 

“Oh,” Alicia says. “Good.”

 

“You should lie down,” June suggests.

 

“Am I bleeding?”

 

“Just your lip,” June says.

 

“It seems pretty serious,” Al jokes. “It might even kill you.”

 

That draws a small smile out of Alicia, though more blood rolls down her chin, and she does as she’s told, lying back on the floor. She turns her head so she can look up at Al. June steps over Alicia and drops into the spot beside Al.

 

“You aren’t off the hook,” June says. “Charlie, can you find me the first aid kit?”

 

“This isn’t even worth dealing with anymore,” Al dismisses. “And you need to take care of Alicia’s wrists.”

 

“Charlie can do that,” June says. “That’s an easy fix. This cut in your face is pretty deep. I’m going to at least butterfly it shut, and you’ll have to clean yourself up when we get…um, wherever we’re going.”

 

“I have a place in mind,” Victor says. “But we might not be too well-received, I’m afraid. We’ll have to meet up with Sarah and Wendell first.”

 

“So,” John says, nudging his hat up. “How’d you manage to get this thing out here, Victor? You wouldn’t bring the van.”

 

Victor laughs heartily. “I was afraid to tip the SWAT van but not afraid to tip this fucker.” He pats the steering wheel then glances back at the group. “Hope for the best on the way back because it was a rough ride here.”

 

“Really rough,” Charlie agrees.

 

“Please don’t drive us off a mountain,” Alicia says.

 

“Relax,” Victor says. “I think I’ve finally got the hang of this thing.”

 

Charlie finds the first aid kit and passes it to June. June then hands some antiseptic and a roll of bandages to Charlie so she can patch up Alicia’s wrists. June gets to work on Al’s face, wiping as much of the dried blood away as she can so she can seal the wound shut with the thin strips of adhesive tape. June’s careful to stay away from Al’s nose as much as possible. John clears his throat, bringing all eyes to him.

 

“I guess we don’t have to worry about anymore vaccines being produced from that place,” he says.

 

“Ethan might not have gotten everyone out on time,” Morgan points out. “We might’ve doomed them all.”

 

Something inside Alicia snaps, and she begins laughing uncontrollably. Once she starts, she can’t stop, even though it hurts. She curls her hand into a fist, bangs it on the floor beside her, and manages to say, “ _This_ is what we get for trying to help people. Seriously. Everything we do backfires.”

 

“Alicia –” Morgan says, but Alicia swiftly cuts him off.

 

“No. No more rousing speeches. No more restoring the faith in a mission we took up even though no one asked us to. And face it, no one wants our help. All we’ve done is more damage to ourselves and those around us. I mean, look at us! It’s a miracle Al’s still on her feet. Morgan, you’ve been shot. We crashed a plane, got ourselves kidnapped, and now I’ve probably caused the deaths of all those innocent people in there. We don’t even have a home to go back to. It’s a fucking joke.”

 

“Alicia,” Morgan says quietly.

 

Alicia slams her fist against the floor again, even though it sends shockwaves of pain through her raw wrist. “I said, no more speeches. You can’t deny everything I’ve said, can you? Ever since we tried to fly a plane over a mountain to help a guy that _played_ us, we’ve been proving to ourselves that this is _stupid_. It’s stupid and _dangerous_ to _us_. I’m not going to die to help people that don’t want it. And this isn’t an argument. I’m either about to pass out or fall asleep, so save it, okay? I’m done. I want out.”

 

True to her word, Alicia shuts her eyes and drops into an uneasy slumber. She’s vaguely aware that she’s dreaming, but something about it feels oddly realistic, and when she jolts awake, she gasps for air like she’s just nearly drowned. The truck hits a huge bump, jostling Alicia around – since she’s still on the floor – and she figures that’s probably what pulled her out of sleep anyway. Alicia tastes blood once more, so she must’ve bitten down on her lower lip sometime in her sleep.

 

“You okay?” June’s gentle voice asks.

 

Al slides off the seats, kneeling beside Alicia. She reaches out, murmuring, “Hey, it’s okay –”

 

Alicia recoils before Al even gets a hand on her, planting her hand up on the row of seats occupied by Morgan, Luciana, and Charlie. All three of them are asleep, Charlie tucked beneath Luciana’s arm, Luciana leaning against Morgan’s good shoulder. Alicia struggles to catch her breath as her eyes frantically search Al’s face. Al is very openly confused, hand still outstretched though she’s stopped advancing.

 

“Alicia?” June says. “Are you okay?”

 

“Don’t,” Alicia hisses, gesturing wildly in Al’s direction, “don’t fucking touch me.”

 

June gets to her feet at the same time that Al stands, stooping to prevent her head from hitting the roof. They hit another bump, forcing Al and June to grab onto each other to keep themselves from hitting the floor.

 

“Hey! Watch it up there, please!” June calls.

 

“I’m doing my best,” Victor says wryly. “If you want to drive, be my guest.”

 

John attempts to navigate from the passenger’s seat, but it’s dark, Alicia realizes. They’re making this journey overnight. Alicia pulls herself up onto the seats beside Morgan, leaning back and exhaling shakily.

 

“Did you hurt yourself?” June finally asks.

 

“Yeah, what’s –” Al begins, but June shushes her, waiting for Alicia’s response.

 

“I’m fine,” Alicia insists. “I just – just don’t touch me.”

 

“What happened?” Al asks softly.

 

Alicia shakes her head. “Stop. Please.”

 

“Al,” June warns, grabbing her by the forearm. “Sit down.”

 

Al wants to protest, but the look June sends her is convincing enough, and she drops back into her seat the moment before they hit another large bump. Alicia rubs at her eyes now that her heart’s beating almost normally again and she feels like she can breathe. She swipes at her bloodied lip with the back of her hand and stares out the back of the vehicle at the road behind them.

 

She’d seen it. What that vaccine did to Derrick in the moments before they cleared out. It was going to be her. Al. Except the only person that was injected was Derrick. By Al. They could’ve just smashed it. Been done with everything. If they had to, they could’ve at least killed Derrick in a slightly more humane way. Maybe the vaccine didn’t kill him, though. Maybe he survived it. The house collapse probably would’ve finished him off, either way. So his death could be Alicia’s fault. Or maybe it’s Al’s. It feels like Alicia’s fault.

 

But that vaccine –

 

“Alicia,” June says. Alicia sets her eyes on June’s face, keeping her expression carefully blank, and waits. “Are you alright?”

 

“Fine,” Alicia says. Her eyes return to the road behind them. They barrel along at a steady speed, the tires kicking up gravel. The road’s awfully narrow, and the truck takes up most of the two lanes of the road. They’re winding around the mountain, and Alicia figures they’ll reach Sarah and Wendell by sunrise. Maybe a little after. Unless John gets them lost.

 

“Did you have to do it?” Alicia asks abruptly. Her eyes lock onto Al’s face, and Al raises her eyebrows.

 

“What?” Al says.

 

“Did you have to do it?” Alicia repeats. Her voice is emotionless, just like her face. “Did you have to inject Derrick with the vaccine?”

 

Al’s lips part as she stares across the aisle at Alicia. “He wouldn’t have hesitated to inject us with it,” Al says. “He got what he deserved.”

 

“That’s not what I asked. Did you have to do it?”

 

Al scoffs. “Well, no, I didn’t _have_ to.”

 

“But you wanted to.”

 

Al’s face sets into a scowl. “Honestly? Yeah. I did.”

 

Alicia nods curtly. “Okay.”

 

“Like you wouldn’t have,” Al points out.

 

“I wouldn’t.”

 

“You’re going to judge me for that?” Al questions. “Like you haven’t done some nasty shit.”

 

Alicia flinches. “It’s not a competition.”

 

“Guys,” June cuts in. “It’s late. This conversation can happen in the morning, okay?”

 

“No, I think it’s going to happen now,” Al says, speaking loudly enough to alert John and Victor up front.

 

“Everything okay back there?” John asks.

 

“We’re fine,” June assures him. She grabs onto Al’s shoulder as Al starts to get up and yanks her back down. “Don’t do something you’re going to regret,” she says gently.

 

“You’re really going to defend him?” Al says, ignoring June. “You’re going to tell me I was wrong?”

 

“We could’ve just destroyed it,” Alicia says.

 

“There’s this thing called _karma_ , and he got his.”

 

“He was a stupid kid,” Alicia blurts. “A stupid kid with daddy issues. You killed the man that intended to hurt us. Fine. I got that. You were defending us. But Derrick? You could’ve just let him go.”

 

“There are already too many Derricks in this world,” Al replies. “Besides, maybe he survived phase one.”

 

Alicia’s eyes sting, but she blinks it away. “Well, I doubt he survived having a house dropped on him, so I guess it doesn’t really matter.”

 

“I guess it doesn’t.”

 

Alicia’s eyes flick to June, expecting her to jump in and try to mediate, but June remains silent. She hasn’t let go of Al’s shoulder since she pulled her back down, and if Al notices, she doesn’t do anything about it. She turns her head to the side, teeth gritted, and Alicia’s eyes land on June’s handiwork. Stitches would’ve been preferable, because Alicia bets that wound’s going to leave a nasty scar once it heals. Alicia tears her eyes away before Al has the chance to call her out for staring.

 

“We’re only a couple of hours out now,” John informs. “As long as the roads stay clear, that is.”

 

“I’ll let you know once we’re in range,” Victor adds. “So we can contact Sarah and Wendell and find a place to meet. They’ve got the van.”

 

“And then?” Alicia asks. “Where do we go from there? Or is the plan just to stay on the road?”

 

“Don’t you trust me, Alicia?” Victor teases. “I have a plan, and it’s just about as stupid as your plan to crash the truck as a diversion was.”

 

“But it worked,” Alicia mumbles.

 

“Seems like there’s a lot of stupidity going around these days,” Victor comments. “Mostly from us.”

 

“Heads up,” John warns. “We’ve got a live one.”

 

“Well, it’s not really live,” Victor replies. “Hang on.”

 

The truck slams into the dead blocking their path, absolutely demolishing it and sending its insides flying. Blood splatters up against the windshield, and Victor clears the glass, laughing to himself.

 

“That was a good one,” Victor says. Either he’s oblivious to the tension hanging in the air in the back of the truck or he simply doesn’t care. Alicia touches her fingers to her lower lip, satisfied when they come away clean. Her eyes flick back over to June and Al. June still hangs onto Al’s shoulder, and Al stares out the back of the truck. June turns her head to the side, mutters something for only Al to hear. Al shakes her head in response, but June releases her shoulder in favor of her bandaged hand.

 

Alicia almost feels the urge to tell June to get her hands off of Al, especially because Al’s not doing anything about it, but June begins unwinding the bandage and inspecting the back of Al’s hand, and Alicia’s words die in her throat. She supposes after going off on Al about the vaccine that she isn’t allowed to act jealous now. The truck hits another one of the dead, and John reprimands Victor for not trying to avoid it.

 

“You gotta live a little, cowboy,” Victor replies. “Yee-haw.”

 

They can’t reach their destination fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest: the whole 'helping people' storyline in the show is getting on my nerves lol so here we're seeing Alicia rebel against it.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts/questions/concerns in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


	18. 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not expect to write this so quickly, but I'm so excited to share this chapter with you guys! This is another one of my favorites, I think, so I hope you enjoy it! Expect more of the Al & June friendship that I wish the show would give us and the Alicia/Al content we all deserve lol.

It’s shortly after sunrise when they finally reach Sarah and Wendell. Al hasn’t slept a wink, even though Alicia passed out a second time shortly after June determined Al’s hand was healing just fine. Victor causes the truck to screech to a halt, throwing everyone in the back around and ensuring everyone’s awake.

 

“We’re here,” Victor says cheerfully. “Everybody out.”

 

Al hangs back as everyone reunites in the middle of the road outside of a long abandoned gas station. She crams her hands into her pockets and stares past everyone at her van. They better get the factory back soon, because Al can’t imagine having to house everyone in her van.

 

“You look like you really took a beating,” Sarah says, clapping Al on the bicep. Sarah grins and adds, “We’ll be lucky if we can still recognize you when your face heals up.”

 

“Thanks,” Al says wryly. “That really hurt my fragile ego, Sarah.”

 

Sarah laughs then slaps the keys to van into Al’s hand. “Figured you’d want these back,” Sarah says. “She’s all yours.”

 

“You didn’t mess with my tapes, did you?” Al questions.

 

Sarah rolls her eyes. “Of course not. Wendell and I know better. I can’t speak for Victor, though. So if there’s a problem, you know who to talk to.”

 

Sarah throws Al a wink and heads off to join Morgan. Al stares down at the keys in her palm and grimaces. She spots Alicia over with Luciana, Victor, and Charlie – smiling – and Al makes her way to the van. She climbs into the back and pauses, scanning the van for any signs of irregularity. Except she locked everything important to her away before she left – although she left the key with Victor, so that was kind of pointless. But everything appears to be in order, except Victor’s shit is taking up one side of the van, and Sarah and Wendell have obviously made themselves at home in the front.

 

Al unlocks the safe that holds her camera and the tapes, but the only thing out of place is the tape labeled _Sal_ , for Daniel Salazar. And that’s supposed to be out of place, so Al lets herself relax. She stores the tape properly, and her eyes linger on her camera. She doesn’t know what to expect. Maybe the uncontrollable urge to start filming now that she has her camera instead of a digital camcorder, but that feeling doesn’t return. So Al locks the safe back up and tucks the keys into the pocket inside her jacket. Honestly, she should just replace this jacket. It’s so badly stained with her own blood that it’s kind of gross.

 

But a new jacket isn’t exactly high on Al’s list of priorities. They have no home that isn’t on wheels, and Alicia’s upset – but Al doesn’t know if it’s because she injected that stupid fucker with the vaccine or if that’s only a little part of something bigger.

 

“Hey.”

 

Al nearly jumps out of her skin, and she whips around to see June pulling herself into the back. “June,” Al breathes. “Jesus.”

 

“Sorry,” June says sheepishly. “Didn’t mean to scare you. But if you didn’t hear the door open, you must’ve really been thinking hard about something.”

 

“Not really.”

 

June hums. “Sure.”

 

Al’s eyes drop to the first aid kit in June’s hand. “What’s that for? You’ve done pretty much all you can do for me.”

 

“You need to get the stitches out of your neck,” June replies. Al doesn’t argue. She peels the bandage off and throws it away, taking a seat and letting June get to work at removing the stitches. “It looks good,” June comments. “Alicia did a nice job, all things considered.”

 

“She didn’t have much of a choice.”

 

“Well, it all worked out,” June says gently.

 

“Easy for you to say. Your face isn’t a hundred shades of fucked up.”

 

June cracks a smile. “It’ll heal,” she reminds. “Like your ear and your back did. Your nose might be permanently crooked, and you might have a couple of scars, but that’s not the worst thing that could happen.”

 

“You’re right,” Al admits.

 

“I know, but it’s nice to hear,” June jokes. She finishes removing the stitches and dabs at the graze wound with some antiseptic before placing a much smaller bandage over the wound. June’s eyes land on the cut in Al’s face. “I wish I could’ve gotten to that much sooner,” June sighs. “That’s going to leave a scar.”

 

“There are worse things than scars, remember?” Al teases. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with my love life –”

 

“Oh, knock it off,” June snorts. “Like Alicia cares.” June pauses. “So are you ever going to tell me how that happened?”

 

Al shrugs. “Sometimes things just happen.”

 

“That’s not an answer. You said something about Nick’s death –”

 

“Yeah, but it’s not like we jumped right into a relationship,” Al says. “I don’t know. Everything’s weird now that the world’s shit. Alicia and I are together, but it’s not like we’ve done a good job at defining exactly what it is.”

 

“I understand,” June says. “Having the _what are we_ conversation isn’t so important when you’re spending all day trying not to get eaten.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Last night,” June says, but Al shakes her head.

 

“We don’t have to talk about that.”

 

“I think we should.”

 

“We can’t,” Al snaps. “Because I don’t know what’s going on.”

 

“She freaked out when you tried to touch her,” June says. “She’s never done anything like that before, has she?”

 

“Not like that,” Al says. It dawns on her: Alicia probably had a nightmare. And since she was so concerned about Al injecting Derrick, she bet it had something to do about almost being a test subject. “I don’t know,” Al mutters. “I don’t know what’s going on in her head.”

 

“Maybe you should talk to her.”

 

Al scoffs. “You think she wants to talk to me right now? You saw how she was last night.”

 

“That was in front of me, John, and Victor,” June points out. “I bet if you got her alone –”

 

“Later,” Al dismisses.

 

“She asked you about the vaccine,” June says.

 

“I made a choice,” Al says. “If you’re going to give me shit for it, too –”

 

“No,” June cuts in. “I don’t blame you for what you did. If it’d been me and John in that position…I can’t even imagine what I’d be willing to do. But you really need to talk to her. What she said to Morgan – Al, what if she takes off?”

 

“What?” Al exclaims. “She wouldn’t.”

 

June’s eyes search Al’s face, and Al stares back in disbelief. June’s expression is grim as she says, “Alicia made it pretty clear she isn’t interested in trying to help anyone anymore.”

 

“Do you blame her?” Al asks softly. “After everything we went through for Logan just to have him steal our home right out from under us. After everything that’s happened to me, to Alicia, to everyone – can you honestly tell me you want to keep this up much longer? Because I’m afraid if we do, we’re going to get ourselves killed.”

 

“You agree with her,” June says.

 

“To a degree, yeah,” Al says. “I agree we’re throwing ourselves headfirst into danger for no reason. We made that factory a _home_. We could’ve lived happily ever after through the end of the world, but Morgan convinced us to go out and search for others to bring in. I just – I see where Alicia’s coming from.”

 

“She said she wants out,” June says. “I’m just saying, I’m afraid she’ll take off.”

 

“You think she’d leave without me?”

 

“I don’t know much about you two, quite honestly,” June says. “But you killed a guy for threatening her, so I’m guessing it’s pretty serious. But that should scare me even more.”

 

“Why?”

 

June stares at Al for a long moment then shakes her head. “Because I’m afraid if she decides to take off, you’ll go with her.”

 

“If it’s a choice between her and the group, yeah, I’ll go with her. I can’t let her go out there alone.”

 

“No,” June says. “You don’t want to let her. We talked about this at the truck stop, and you said she puts the group first. And I told you it was for now.”

 

“If she wants to go, I can’t stop her,” Al says quietly. “Even if I want to. I can’t control Alicia, and I wouldn’t try to. If she wants to go, that’s her choice.”

 

“It’s a choice that affects all of us. Especially you.”

 

“I’ll go with her,” Al says. “No doubt about it.”

 

“And if she didn’t want you to go?” June questions.

 

Al hesitates. “Then I would respect her decision.”

 

“Would you?”

 

“Well, it’d probably be some blowout fight, but if Alicia was really dead set on going out there alone, what could I do?”

 

June rubs her eyes and exhales heavily. “I don’t think she’d leave you behind,” June says. “I know I would never run from John again. Not now, after everything that’s happened.”

 

“If I refused to go, she would still leave,” Al murmurs.

 

“That’s why you wouldn’t refuse to leave.”

 

Al inhales deeply. “Yeah. But we’re talking about a hypothetical situation. She hasn’t expressed an interest in leaving.”

 

“But she’s done helping people.”

 

Al scowls. “She’s done seeking out people for us to swoop in and rescue, like we’re fucking superheroes or something. Obviously, if there’s someone that needs and _wants_ help, we’re going to help them. But otherwise, we should be looking after ourselves.”

 

June nods. “I get it.”

 

“But?” Al says.

 

June smiles sadly. “But I have things to make up for, Al, and this is a start. Going out of my way for others.”

 

“I get it,” Al says. “But if Alicia’s done, so am I.”

 

“Can you just talk to her?” June asks. “Please?”

 

Al presses her lips together. “Later,” she says. “I promise.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Al waves her hand dismissively. “Don’t thank me yet. I have to get her to talk to me first.”

 

“Look, I’ll be the first one to say I don’t want to lose you guys,” June says. She pats Al’s knee then stands. “But if you can’t stay, I’ll understand. I won’t like it, and I’ll probably be the only person here that’ll get it.”

 

Al cracks a smile, peering up at June. “No one’s leaving yet,” Al reminds. “Maybe don’t put the thought in Alicia’s mind, though.”

 

“Take your own advice,” June says. “And good luck.”

 

Al scoffs. “I don’t need good luck. I’ve done much worse than injecting someone with a vaccine, and so has she. We’ll get past this.”

 

June smiles. “Maybe don’t use that argument with Alicia.”

 

“Right,” Al says. “Yeah. I’ll think of something better.”

 

“I can send her here, if you’d like,” June offers.

 

“No,” Al says. “I’ll go – I should go find her myself.”

 

June nods. “I’ll be with John if you need me.”

 

June exits the van, and Al heaves a sigh, pushing her hands into her hair. Before she goes after Alicia, she should really think of what she wants to say before words she’ll regret just come spewing out of her mouth. Her eyes land on the safe. She glances at the back of the van, but June had shut the doors behind her. Just as a precaution, Al locks herself in then gets the camera out of the safe. She shuffles through her collection of tapes until she unearths the box labeled _AC_. Inside, the tapes are simply numbered, and Al’s eyes skim over them until she finds number 17.

 

Al pops the tape into the camera and plays it back. Al and Alicia’s bedroom at the factory comes into view. Al’s vantage point is from her bed against one wall, and the camera slowly zooms in on the other side of the room where Alicia sits cross-legged on her bed with a book in her lap. She flips a page, totally unaware of the camera on her.

 

“Alicia,” Al says softly. Alicia’s head immediately snaps up, and her eyes lock on the camera. She blushes, grins, then covers her face with her hands.

 

“Stop filming me,” Alicia says.

 

“Why?” Al laughs.

 

“Let me read in peace,” Alicia replies.

 

“But you look cute.”

 

“ _Stop_. Oh my God. You’re making me blush.”

 

“I’m not going to stop filming.”

 

Alicia lowers her hands from her face, carefully marks her spot in the book, then tosses it aside. “Then I’ll make you.”

 

Alicia lunges across the room and fights Al for the camera, so all Al really sees is the bedroom, out of focus, as the camera’s being whipped around. They’re both laughing uncontrollably though until there’s a loud _thunk_ , and Al exclaims, “Hey! Don’t put my camera through the wall!”

 

“Shh!” Alicia says. The camera’s been dropped onto the bed, now filming the closed door, but Al remembers Alicia had clamped her hand over Al’s mouth. “You’re going to wake June,” Alicia giggles.

 

“I could yell and it wouldn’t wake June. The walls are thick.”

 

“The walls are thick?” Alicia says.

 

“Well, John and June are on the other side of this wall, and I’ve never heard a peep. And you _know_ they aren’t being quiet in there.”

 

“Gross,” Alicia laughs. She fumbles for the camera, bringing it around so Al watches her own face come into view. “How do you shut this thing off?”

 

“Leave it on.”

 

“No!”

 

“Why not?” Al questions. Al takes a moment to admire her face on the small screen. Perfectly straight nose. No giant gash in her cheek. And it’s one of those rare moments she gets to see true happiness on her own face.

 

“We aren’t making a sex tape! Jesus, Al, just shut it off!”

 

“You know, I didn’t even think of that,” Al says. “What do we have to lose?”

 

“Our last lingering bit of dignity,” Alicia replies.

 

“Fine, give it here.”

 

The camera trains on Alicia’s face once more, her lower lip pulled between her teeth. “Hurry,” Alicia urges.

 

“What’s your rush?” Al asks. “We’ve got all the time in the world, sweetheart.”

 

“If that’s the case, let me go finish my book first, and I’ll come back in a couple hours –”

 

“Okay, fine, fine,” Al says. “I’m shutting it off.”

 

“I know that little red light means it’s still on, so don’t try anything.”

 

Al scoffs. “You really don’t trust me? I am hurt and offended –”

 

“Shut it _off_ ,” Alicia whines.

 

Al turns the camera so it’s on herself, and she does her best serious reporter impression as she says, “Here we have Alicia Clark complaining that I’m not shutting the camera off fast enough for her. Next up on the ten o’clock news, we’ll analyze why Alicia Clark has no damn patience left, so make sure you tune in –”

 

“You aren’t even funny,” Alicia interrupts.

 

Al grins. “I think I’m hilarious.”

 

“I think you really don’t want to get laid tonight.”

 

The camera shakes as Al laughs, and Al looks back into the camera and adds, “Tonight Alicia Clark’s going to learn some patience the hard way.”

 

“Stop pretending like you have an audience.”

 

“The audience is me in the future looking back on all the _wonderful_ times we’ve had,” Al says. She turns the camera back on Alicia. “Say hi to me in the future.”

 

Alicia glares, but a smile threatens to break her carefully constructed irritated expression. “Hi, Al of the future,” Alicia says flatly. “Al of the present time doesn’t know when to quit.”

 

“Al of the present time thinks we should definitely make a sex tape, because Al of the future will never be able to watch it without cringing hardcore.”

 

Alicia rolls her eyes. “No sex tape. Imagine if one of the others gets their hands on it. We’ll literally never live it down. Ever.”

 

“You’re right,” Al agrees. “Never mind. This is Al Szewczek-Przygocki, signing off.”

 

“I can’t believe your parents really went with that,” Alicia says as Al goes to shut the camera off.

 

“Yeah, I know,” Al mutters. “And I really didn’t take the opportunity to change it once the world ended. What’s wrong with me?”

 

“You want a list?” Alicia laughs. “Is that off yet?”

 

“No, you’re distracting me.”

 

“You’re stalling!”

 

“Nope, I’ve got it.”

 

The tape ends. Al shakes her head but smiles and ejects the tape, carefully tucking it back into its place. She hasn’t watched it until now. In fact, she hasn’t watched most of these, but she knows what’s on every single one, just by the number. She knows number 18 was filmed by Alicia and is literally three minutes of Al sleeping with her mouth hanging open while Alicia keeps a running commentary until Al jolts awake. Al knows number 1 contains the moments after Nick’s death up until Alicia attacks her for filming. Al knows number 20 is Alicia’s bad attempt at a karaoke duet of _Don’t Go Breaking My Heart_ with Victor, who sounds even worse than Alicia.

 

Al puts the camera and tapes away without watching anymore. She leaves the van to find almost everyone’s gathered inside the gas station, a small pile of the dead thrown outside the door. Alicia sits on the hood of the military truck, staring off into the distance, and she doesn’t look over even as Al braces her boot against the tire and boosts herself up onto the hood, plopping down beside Alicia. Al stares out into the distance the same way Alicia is, but there’s nothing interesting out there. Mountains way far out. Trees. Debris. The usual shit.

 

“Are you ready to talk to me yet?” Al asks.

 

“No,” Alicia says simply.

 

“Well, will you do it anyway?”

 

“What’s there to talk about?” Alicia mumbles.

 

“You told me not to _fucking_ touch you last night,” Al says. “Your words. We could start there.”

 

“I just freaked out,” Alicia dismisses. “It’s fine. I’m sorry.”

 

Al hums. “Right.” Now she turns her head to look at Alicia. Her lower lip’s a little swollen from being split. That’s not so bad, all things considered. A lock of hair has managed to free itself from Alicia’s sloppy attempt at a ponytail, and Al reaches over to brush it behind Alicia’s ear but stops herself short when Alicia flinches. “So it’s not fine,” Al says, dropping her hand into her own lap. Alicia quickly swipes the lock of hair out of her eyes then wrings her hands. “Are you going to tell me what happened or shut me out?” Al asks.

 

“The second one.”

 

“Not acceptable.”

 

“That’s not your decision.”

 

“So you’re going to make me guess,” Al says. She gauges Alicia’s reaction, her eyes tracking every slight change in Alicia’s face. “That’s a fun game. I’m pretty good at it, too,” Al continues. “Let me see. Where should I start? We were both strapped to a table and almost experimented on. That fucked with my mind a little, so I’m guessing it fucked with yours, too, but if you’re not ready to unpack that one, we can move on. I killed Roberts. But, to be fair, yesterday you agreed that was in defense and it didn’t bother you. So we can move onto the third thing, when I injected that asshat with his dad’s experimental vaccine that killed, from the sound of it, 303 people _at least_.”

 

“I get the point,” Alicia interrupts.

 

“So I’m close?”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Alicia snaps. “Okay? Can we just wait?”

 

“For what?” Al questions. “When are we going to talk about it? If you can give me a time and a place, sure, we can wait. But if you’re going to yell at me in front of our friends not to touch you and flinch every time I try, I think we better talk sooner rather than later, yeah?” Al’s eyes search Alicia’s face for a moment before she murmurs, “Before I start overthinking some things.”

 

Alicia finally tears her eyes away from the scenery and meets Al’s gaze. “Your face looks really bad,” Alicia whispers.

 

“Thanks,” Al says, forcing a smile. “I really needed to hear that today.”

 

“I am sorry,” Alicia says. “For telling you off last night, but I just – I couldn’t – you couldn’t touch me.”

 

“Why not?”

 

Alicia hesitates. She looks away, shakes her head, and presses her lips together even though it clearly causes her some discomfort. “You know those dreams,” Alicia says, “that feel real while you’re in them but you’re still kind of aware that it’s not really real? But it’s so realistic that you just override that feeling of _maybe I’m dreaming_?”

 

“My dreams usually aren’t that deep,” Al admits. “And I don’t remember ninety percent of them, so no, not really.”

 

“I had one. Last night. In the truck when I was sleeping on the floor.” A tear rolls down Alicia’s cheek, but she grits her teeth and wipes it away.

 

“I was in it,” Al guesses.

 

Alicia’s head tips forward in a nod. “And when I woke up, I couldn’t take having you anywhere near me. And I’m sorry about the way I handled it. I really am, but I was –”

 

“You were scared,” Al finishes. “I get it.”

 

“And all that stuff you listed off,” Alicia whispers, “it all just keeps flashing through my mind with the tons of other awful shit we’ve seen and done the past few days, and I guess it all gets tangled up in my dreams while my brain tries to sort it out or whatever. And seeing you inject that asshole with that vaccine, even to defend me – I don’t know. Honestly, I probably would’ve done the same thing in a similar situation even though I told you I wouldn’t. I know I’ve done worse. You’ve done worse. We all have, but I can’t help but think –” Alicia’s voice breaks, and she shakes her head once more and stares off toward the gas station instead of at Al.

 

“You know I would never hurt you, right?” Al asks quietly.

 

Alicia barks a harsh sounding laugh and wipes at her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Yeah,” she says. “Consciously I know that.”

 

“You dreamt I hurt you.”

 

“Something like that,” Alicia mutters.

 

“Then woke up, saw me, and freaked.” When Alicia doesn’t respond, Al asks, “Is that right?”

 

“Do the details matter?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Alicia exhales heavily. “I’m not ready to give the details.”

 

“Okay,” Al agrees. “Take your time. And in the meantime, I’ll stay away. So when you’re ready, you know how to find me.”

 

Al goes to slide off the hood of the truck, but Alicia calls, “Wait!” So Al turns back.

 

“What’s up?” Al asks.

 

“The others –”

 

“I’ll handle the others,” Al says. She looks Alicia over quickly then adds, “Just don’t do anything stupid, okay? Promise.”

 

“Stupid like what?” Alicia questions.

 

“Like running off on your own or taking dangerous risks or anything like that. Promise me.”

 

Alicia’s tongue darts out to wet her lips, but she murmurs, “I promise.”

 

Al nods. “Thank you.”

 

“Wait. One more thing,” Alicia says. Al turns back once more, and Alicia digs into her jacket and pulls out the camcorder. “Take this.”

 

“Leesh –”

 

“Please,” Alicia says, holding the camcorder out. “Please take it.”

 

Al sighs then plucks the camcorder out of Alicia’s hand, being careful not to touch her in the process. “Okay,” Al says. “I have it.”

 

“Maybe watch it. When you’re alone.”

 

Al smirks. “Something I’m going to like?”

 

Alicia rolls her eyes. “No,” she says. “Just watch it when you’re alone.”

 

Al nods. “You got it. Anything else?”

 

Alicia exhales shakily. “I’m sorry for telling you your face looks bad.”

 

Al shrugs. “I know it looks bad. It’s all bruised and cut and shit. It’ll heal, and I’ll almost look like myself again.” The joke falls flat, and Al hops off the truck. She tucks the camcorder into her jacket pocket. “If you find a good jacket,” Al says, “send it my way. This thing has too much blood on it for me to justify keeping it any longer.”

 

“You can just steal one of mine if you want,” Alicia offers.

 

“Leather’s not really my style.”

 

A smile flickers on Alicia’s face. “I think you’d look good in leather. Plus the dead have a hard time biting through it, so, you know, it’s a strategic thing, too.”

 

“Right,” Al says. “I’ll think about it.”

 

“Did June say how your neck is?” Alicia asks as Al begins to walk away.

 

“She said you did a good job,” Al answers. “She removed the stitches.”

 

“And your hand?”

 

“My hand is fine, my hearing is back to normal, and I don’t know for sure if my back is totally healed but it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

 

“So it’s just your face now.”

 

Al snorts. “Yeah. But don’t worry about it, okay? I’m good.”

 

Alicia nods, and Al takes that as the end of the conversation. She glances at the gas station, spots Sarah and Wendell sharing a beer through the window, and returns to the van before anyone can spot her. She locks herself in once more, takes a deep breath, and turns the camcorder on. The most recent footage is timestamped with what may or may not actually be today’s date, placing the time at less than an hour before now. Al’s eyebrows pull together, and she starts it from the beginning. Alicia holds the camera so it’s trained on her face, and she’s sitting in the back of the military truck. Al assumes she’s alone since Alicia didn’t want her watching it around any of the others. The moment Al hits play, Alicia begins to speak.

 

“I meant what I said last night,” Alicia says directly into the camera. Her voice is quiet but strong. “About being done. I can’t – I can’t keep going out and searching for people to help. We’ve failed every single time, and my mom – my mom wanted to build a place for us to live as normally as possible. A place where we’d all be safe. But she would never risk my life – or Nick’s life, at the time – to do that. She’d take people in, but she didn’t hunt them down and force them to join us. It doesn’t feel like I’m doing the right thing by following Morgan on his quest to help anymore. So I have to be done.”

 

Alicia takes a deep breath, wipes at her eyes, and in the momentary silence, Al hears distant laughter that belongs to Victor from somewhere outside of the truck.

 

“But I get it if you want to keep it up,” Alicia continues. “If you want to crash planes and get kidnapped and do God knows what else on the journey to save hardened survivors that trick us and steal our shit, then okay. I will learn to live with that. I can’t say I’ll learn to live without you, but if I have to, I’ll try. For a while. But please, _please_ don’t make me try to live without you, okay? Please understand why I have to walk away from this. Please do this with me.”

 

The camera shakes, meaning Alicia’s hands were shaking as she filmed it. Her eyes still shine with tears that steadily fall, but she’s stopped trying to wipe them away.

 

“I get that I’m asking for a lot. I’m asking you to walk away from your friends, but I’m walking away from them, too. And it won’t be forever. You and I both know we have an odd tendency to find people when we least expect it. And I know June will try to make us stay and lecture us about not running like she did, but I can’t, Al. I really can’t stay. I can’t do this. I just – I have this really bad feeling that if I stay and continue like this that soon, it’s really going to backfire on us. I’m not ready to die. And I’m not ready for you to die, but since we crashed the plane, it seems like the world’s been trying to – it just seems like our luck’s going to run out if we keep this up.

 

“I filmed this because I know if I tried to have this conversation in person, you’d interrupt me a million times and try to change my mind. But my mind is made up. I need to go, and now that you know that, you need to decide what you want to do.”

 

“Alicia!” someone calls in the background. Alicia quickly wipes her eyes and turns toward the back of the truck.

 

“Hang on a minute!” Alicia shouts. She turns back to the camera and whispers, “I’m not going to leave right away, of course. But soon. Before Morgan finds another hopeless cause. So when we get a moment alone, we need to talk.”

 

The screen goes black. Al stares at the black screen for a long while then runs her hand through her hair and exhales. She sets the camcorder on top of the safe and slumps down in the seat, pressing her fingers against her eyes.

 

How is she going to tell June the hypothetical situation they talked about earlier isn’t a hypothetical after all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a general idea of where I'm going now that the group has escaped and met up with Sarah and Wendell (I don't really get why they have to fly in the show? Why can't they just drive? Because there's a mountain? There's probably a reason and I just missed it but whatever lol). I don't know how much longer Crash is going to be, though. I don't have a solid ending in mind yet (just a vague idea of what I'd like to do) so I can't really estimate how many more chapters are coming lol. I guess we're all just along for the ride, and I can't thank you all enough for staying with me.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your love and support. I'd love to hear from you in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as I can!


	19. 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, we got some Al & June moments, so this chapter's going to kick off with Alicia & Luciana, another duo I wish the show would take the time to explore, but I guess that's what fanfic is for lol. I hope you enjoy it!

The gas station door opens and shuts, and Luciana strolls out, stepping over the pile of the dead and joining Alicia at the truck. She doesn’t climb up the way Al did, lingering in front of the truck instead, staring up at Alicia.

 

“There’s beer,” Luciana says, motioning toward the gas station. “I mean, sitting on top of a truck all by yourself is fun, too, but Sarah and Wendell are having a drinking contest. I thought you might want to join us.”

 

“Join a drinking contest?” Alicia questions.

 

Luciana laughs. “No. No offense, but you can’t outdrink Sarah. Wendell’s giving it a shot, though, if you want to come in.”

 

“Did Morgan send you out here?” Alicia asks.

 

A puzzled look crosses Luciana’s face. “No. Of course not. I came out here to let you know there’s beer, but there won’t be for much longer if this contest continues.”

 

Alicia manages a smile. “It’s okay,” she says. “I’m not really up for drinking right now.”

 

“Me either,” Luciana admits. “And, um, I saw Al was with you, but she left, so I thought I’d make sure you’re alright.”

 

Alicia nods and swallows hard. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, I’m good.”

 

“And Al’s okay?”

 

Alicia nods again, not trusting herself to verbally answer that question right away. Luciana stares at her expectantly, though, so Alicia says, “Yes. Al’s good.”

 

“You’re sure?” Luciana says. “Because you look kind of…I don’t know. Sad?”

 

“I’m not sad,” Alicia says way too quickly. “It’s just – it’s been a rough few days, you know? I feel like I’ve aged ten years.”

 

Luciana cracks a smile. “I know the feeling.” She pauses. “So are you ever going to tell me about you and Al? Because I think June knows more than I do, and that’s not fair.” Luciana grins but it slides when Alicia’s expression darkens. “Is everything okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Alicia says. “Yeah. I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well on the ride over.”

 

“Oh,” Luciana says. “Right. My neck’s still sore from sleeping on Morgan.”

 

“I was on the floor,” Alicia jokes weakly. “Victor’s driving style is really just slamming on the breaks a lot, isn’t it?”

 

“And going out of the way to hit the dead,” Luciana agrees. “But hey, he got us out of that hellhole alive and mostly intact, didn’t he?”

 

“I knew he would.”

 

Luciana hesitates. “Do you have any idea of what his plan is? He kept saying he has a plan, but it’s a stupid one.”

 

“Aren’t all our plans stupid ones?” Alicia points out.

 

“Yes. But Victor still hasn’t told us anything about this plan. I’m afraid Sarah’s going to drink herself into a coma, and we’ll be stuck here for the night.”

 

Alicia winces. “We’ll probably be stuck here for the night anyway. It’s not like we have a home to return to.”

 

Luciana sighs. “And Victor’s keeping his plan to himself.”

 

“Maybe he lied,” Alicia muses. “Maybe he doesn’t have a plan.”

 

“No, I bet he has one,” Luciana says. “It’s probably so stupid it’ll work, since that seems to be how shit is turning out for us now.”

 

“Our luck has to run out eventually.”

 

“Maybe not,” Luciana says. She pauses. “You don’t think he has a plan to take back the factory, do you?”

 

“Probably not,” Alicia scoffs. “If he does, it’s a stupid one for sure, and it probably involves driving the SWAT van through the side of the building.”

 

Luciana laughs and offers up her hand when Alicia starts to descend from the hood of the truck. Alicia takes it and lets Luciana help her down. “You’re probably right,” Luciana agrees. They exchange a grin, then Alicia looks to the gas station. Through the window, she watches Sarah finish another beer and add the bottle to a steadily growing pile.

 

“If he had a plan to take back the factory, I think he would’ve already told us,” Alicia says. “So it must be something else.”

 

“Something stupid.”

 

“Something stupid,” Alicia agrees. She hesitates for a moment, and her eyes flick from the gas station to the SWAT van to Luciana’s face. “What if we don’t get the factory back?”

 

“What?” Luciana says. “We’ll find a way –”

 

“No, I mean, what if we don’t try to get the factory back?” Alicia asks. “Logan deposited all of our stuff outside of it, right? We have what belongs to us. We have the van. What if we just…start over? Somewhere else?”

 

Luciana’s eyes search Alicia’s face as she mulls this over. “Well,” Luciana says, “it’d be much easier than taking the factory back by force. And we wouldn’t risk any lives in a shootout.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“But where?” Luciana asks. “Where is there a place big enough for everyone?”

 

Alicia blinks. “Luci, there’s ten of us. We could pick any two story house in the area and make it work.”

 

“But if we find others –”

 

“We haven’t,” Alicia cuts in. “We haven’t found anyone else.”

 

“But if we do, then what?”

 

Alicia shrugs. “Then we adapt. But for now, we could pick a smaller place, somewhere abandoned and easily defensible. It won’t be the factory, obviously, but we could make it work.”

 

Luciana sighs. “I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t think Morgan would agree.”

 

“Of course he wouldn’t,” Alicia mutters. “He’s still holding out hope that we’re going to build some giant community even though we’ve had no success so far.”

 

“It’s frustrating, I know, but we’ll break through,” Luciana assures her. “We just need to be patient.”

 

Alicia nods just so Luciana will stop staring at her and sets her gaze back on the gas station. “Maybe we should go stop that drinking contest,” Alicia says.

 

“Maybe,” Luciana says. “Or maybe we should let it run its course.”

 

“You just want to see if Wendell can pull off a huge upset,” Alicia snorts.

 

Luciana grins. “I love rooting for the underdog.”

 

Alicia tears her eyes away from the gas station and stares out at the SWAT van. She knows Al is in there, probably watching the video Alicia recorded for her, but the van gives no outward indication that there’s anyone inside. Something deep in Alicia’s chest aches.

 

“You’re sure you guys are okay?” Luciana asks once she follows Alicia’s eyes to the van. “Whatever you were talking about…it seemed a little tense.”

 

“We’re good,” Alicia insists. “Just, you know, normal stuff. We’re both stressed out of our minds, and now everyone knows about us. And I know you’re all whispering behind our backs.”

 

Luciana’s face heats up slightly, but she grumbles, “That isn’t true.”

 

“Right,” Alicia laughs. “Please. June’s rubbing the fact that she figured us out first in all of your faces.”

 

“Okay, but that’s June,” Luciana points out. “I’m not talking about you behind your back. I say shit to your face.”

 

Alicia smiles knowingly and shakes her head. “It’s okay,” she says. “There hasn’t been any interesting gossip in a while. And John and June are, like, a snorefest.”

 

“We gossip about them, too,” Luciana says. She covers her mouth with her hand then whispers, “Don’t repeat that.”

 

“Wait, who do you gossip with?” Alicia questions.

 

Luciana shrugs. “Charlie. Sometimes Al. Mostly Morgan.”

 

“ _Morgan_?”

 

Luciana laughs. “I know, can you believe it? Maybe it’s because TV isn’t a thing anymore. John and June are Morgan’s biggest source of live entertainment.”

 

“Better them than me and Al,” Alicia says. She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back against the front of the truck. “It was Al’s idea to keep us quiet,” she explains. “I would’ve rather come out with it right away.”

 

“It’s okay,” Luciana says. “I get it. You don’t want your business all over the place.” She smiles. “You don’t want us all gossiping about you.”

 

“Well, it’s too late for that,” Alicia says.

 

“June may have called you two being a thing first,” Luciana says, “but Charlie’s been saying you two should date since we told Al your mom’s story.”

 

“ _What_?”

 

“Yeah,” Luciana says.

 

“Why? I didn’t even like Al as a person then, so I definitely wasn’t –”

 

“Trying to get into her pants?” Luciana jumps in.

 

Alicia glares. “Interested in her.”

 

“I think Charlie’s exact words were _Alicia’s pretty and Al is super hot, so they should totally get together_.”

 

Alicia splutters. “That’s the worst reasoning I’ve ever heard!”

 

“Cut her some slack,” Luciana chuckles. “She’s twelve.”

 

“And now I know she thinks Al is super hot,” Alicia jokes. “So I have to watch out for the competition.”

 

Luciana rolls her eyes. “Let her have her little crush in peace. The apocalypse is a hard place to find love.”

 

Alicia grimaces. “We do it anyway, though, don’t we?”

 

Luciana’s expression turns grim. “Yeah, and we pay the price.” When Alicia meets Luciana’s gaze, she notices Luciana’s eyes are a bit watery. “Keep her close, okay?” Luciana says quietly. “Don’t let her go.”

 

Alicia nods solemnly. “I will.”

 

“I don’t want what happened to me to happen to you, too.”

 

“It’ll happen over my dead body,” Alicia says. “Sorry. That sounded bad, but you get what I mean.”

 

Luciana smiles shakily. “I should go stop Wendell and Sarah from drinking themselves to death. Wendell’s never going to catch up with her.”

 

“You never know,” Alicia says. “If she passes out, he might.”

 

“If we let her pass out, we’re bad people.”

 

They laugh together, and Alicia watches as Luciana returns to the gas station to end the drinking contest between the siblings. Alicia can hear Sarah and Wendell’s protests through the building, but she hopes Luciana can handle it and heads for the van. The back door’s locked, which is strange, forcing Alicia to knock.

 

“Al,” Alicia calls. “It’s me.”

 

The next moment, the lock clicks, and Alicia hops back before the door swings open straight into her face. She expects Al to be in the doorway, but she must’ve pushed the door open and immediately returned to the seats. Alicia climbs up warily, pulling the doors shut behind her and relocking them.

 

“Is everything okay?” Alicia asks.

 

Al stands stiffly, camcorder in hand. She faces Alicia and shakes the camcorder around as she says, “You’re serious? You recorded that on this stupid little digital thing and now you’re here acting like everything’s fine and dandy?”

 

Alicia’s eyebrows raise. “You weren’t secretly part of that drinking contest, were you?”

 

Al’s eyebrows pull together. “What?”

 

“Never mind,” Alicia says quickly. Al glares and drops the camcorder on top of the safe. Alicia lingers back near the doors, but Al actually steps farther away from her, toward the front of the van. “Hey, what’s –”

 

“Oh, now you want to talk?” Al questions, spinning back around. “You just needed a little pep talk from Luci and you’re ready to talk to me now?”

 

“Okay, that’s not what that was,” Alicia says. “She just came to see if I wanted a beer –”

 

“The point is, you don’t want to talk to _me_. But you recorded this whole thing basically asking me to run away with you. So what’s the deal, Alicia?” Al demands. “Are we going to talk right now? You just told me you needed more time.”

 

“Al, I –”

 

“I tried to touch you and you _flinched_. Really hard. Like I’d fucking slapped you or something. So if you need time, okay, fine, I get it, but then you also have to, you know, _stay away from me_ too.”

 

“You are talking way too fast,” Alicia says loudly. “Too many words are coming out of you right now.”

 

“Are you going to tell me?” Al asks. Alicia resists the urge to flinch at the pain that flashes in Al’s eyes and clenches her jaw instead. “Are you going to tell me what happened in that dream you had so I can try to do something about it? Or do I need to stay away from you while you plan your escape and think about whether or not I’m coming with you?”

 

“I told you,” Alicia says quietly, “if you want to come, it’s up to you.”

 

“Well, I’m not going to let you go on your own!”

 

Alicia sighs. “Can we sit? Please?”

 

Al takes a breath and nods. She motions toward the seats, and once Alicia sits down, Al takes up the spot directly across from her. Alicia doesn’t have it in her to ask Al to come sit next to her instead. She just watches as Al spreads her legs and plants her arms against her knees as she leans forward. Al’s hair hangs in her eye, and Alicia thinks for a second that Al could probably use a haircut.

 

“We’re sitting,” Al points out.

 

“I’m sorry,” Alicia blurts. “I’m sorry for – for scaring you and for dropping _that_ ,” she motions toward the camcorder, “on you and expecting you to decide all at once, and I’m sorry for –” Alicia sighs then mumbles, “I’m sorry for not being okay.”

 

“Don’t apologize for that,” Al says. “A lot of shit has happened to us over the span of, like, a few days. It’s a lot to deal with, and I get that. But shutting down? Completely shutting me out? That’s not okay. As much as we don’t want to, we need to talk about shit and handle it like we’re mature adults even though the dead eat the living and nothing makes any fucking sense anymore, okay?”

 

Alicia cracks a weary smile. “Okay.”

 

“I love you, Alicia,” Al says. “And if you need to run away, you can bet your ass I’m going to run away with you. And if you want to come back, I will come back with you, too. I will follow your ass anywhere on this godforsaken planet. But I can’t wave my hand and make all the shit we went through go away or magically make it better. Running away isn’t going to fix it, either, so if that’s what prompted this –”

 

“No,” Alicia interrupts. “I mean, all the shit we went through to help Logan while we were actually just falling into his trap started this. But I’m not expecting running away to solve any of it.”

 

“Okay, good,” Al says. “That’s a start.”

 

“And I’m not running away. I’m leaving,” Alicia says. “There _is_ a difference.”

 

“Why can’t we stay?” Al asks softly. “We can pull out of the helping people mission. That’s fine. But why can’t we stay with our friends?”

 

“Because they won’t let us stop unless we leave,” Alicia answers. “Morgan will never stop trying to convince us, and I can’t listen to another one of his damn speeches.”

 

Al nods. “Okay.”

 

“Okay?”

 

“Okay,” Al says. “So we’ll leave. But that’s not good enough. When are we leaving? How are we leaving? Where are we going?”

 

“We’ll figure it out,” Alicia dismisses. “Like I said, I’m not going now.”

 

“We,” Al corrects. “We aren’t going now.”

 

“We aren’t going now,” Alicia says. “We have time to figure everything out then go. But Victor might have a really stupid plan up his sleeve, and we can’t get roped into it.”

 

“Yeah,” Al says. “So we need to start planning soon.”

 

“We have your van,” Alicia murmurs. “We don’t have to stay in Texas, but we could. Or we could go somewhere else. Somewhere nice.”

 

“Later,” Al says. “We’ll plan later.”

 

“You’re coming for sure?” Alicia questions.

 

Al blinks. “Did you hear anything I said, or did you blank out for my whole mini-speech?”

 

“No, I heard you, I just –”

 

“I’m coming,” Al insists. “No matter what. And I’ll stay as long as you want me.”

 

A smile flickers on Alicia’s face. “So forever?”

 

Al balks. “Was that a marriage proposal?”

 

Alicia laughs. “No. I don’t even have a ring.”

 

“Okay, because I’m not ready to be married again,” Al says. “It didn’t work out so great for me last time.”

 

“But that was official marriage,” Alicia points out. “This would be apocalypse marriage.”

 

They both smile, but neither of them speaks again. For a while, they both stare at each other from across the aisle of the van. Alicia exhales heavily and looks away from Al, looking out toward the windshield.

 

“It was like we were back in that room,” Alicia says quietly. Her fingers fidget with the bandages on her wrists. “In the dream. And we were strapped down again, but John didn’t save our asses this time. You – you wouldn’t let me go first.”

 

“I was trying to buy you time,” Al blurts. “If I went first, there’d be a chance something would stop Roberts before he got to you, too.”

 

Alicia nods. “I know,” she says. “But in the dream, you were injected. And I saw what it did to Derrick, so my mind made the transition, you know? And dreams never make sense, so when it was time for my injection…” Alicia trails off, jaw clenching and unclenching.

 

“It was me.”

 

Alicia clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Yeah, but it was weird. The injection killed you, but…”

 

“I get it,” Al says.

 

“Do you?” Alicia hisses.

 

“Yes. And I get why you woke up and didn’t want me to touch you.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s not your fault.”

 

“I’m probably going to keep reliving it,” Alicia admits. She looks back at Al’s face, at the way Al carefully contains all her emotions even though they’re simmering in her eyes. “We almost died really horrific deaths for the _greater good_ , which I don’t even think exists anymore.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Derrick died a really horrific death,” Alicia mutters.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Alicia shakes her head. “I shouldn’t blame you for that.”

 

“But you do.”

 

Alicia inhales sharply. “Yeah. Kind of,” she says. “But everyone’s got blood on their hands, so I can’t really hold it against you.”

 

“I wish I could say I regret it.”

 

“But you don’t,” Alicia says. “And that’s okay. I understand.”

 

Al nods. “You know, I watched a tape today.”

 

“Yeah?” Alicia says, raising her eyebrows. She hesitates. “Of your family?”

 

“No. Of you.”

 

“Of me?”

 

“Us, really,” Al says nonchalantly. “At the factory.”

 

“Doing what?” Alicia says suspiciously.

 

“You know when you tried to stop me from filming you and refused to make a sex tape and –”

 

“Yes, I remember. You wouldn’t shut the damn camera off,” Alicia grumbles. “Why’d you watch that?”

 

Al shrugs. “I don’t know. It seems like things were easier then. Sort of. I mean, we were totally hiding our relationship, but we were still getting the factory together and not setting out to find people to fill it up with. And you were happy.”

 

“I’m still happy,” Alicia argues.

 

Al smiles sadly and shakes her head. “No. Not since I crashed the plane.”

 

“I’m not _unhappy_ ,” Alicia says. “Not with you. I’m not happy about this whole situation, sure, but with you –”

 

“I know,” Al cuts in. “It’s just nice to see a time where you were genuinely happy.”

 

“It could’ve been our home,” Alicia whispers. “The factory was perfect, and if we hadn’t left – if we hadn’t taken up that stupid mission to help people – we’d still be there. We’d be safe.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I wouldn’t be having nightmares about you hurting me.”

 

“I know.”

 

Alicia sighs heavily. “We’re going to be stuck here tonight. You know that, right?”

 

“Why?”

 

“Sarah and Wendell had a drinking contest.”

 

“Oh,” Al says. “That’s what you were talking about.”

 

“Yeah. Luciana went to try to stop it, but I bet the damage is done.”

 

Their eyes lock. Alicia’s eye twitches, but she doesn’t look away, even as Al asks, “Leesh, how are we going to tell them we’re leaving them behind? How are you going to tell Luci? Victor? How am I going to tell June?”

 

“It’s going to be hard,” Alicia says. “If you don’t want to go –”

 

“I’m going. Stop second guessing it.”

 

Alicia nods. “I’m just so tired, Al,” she breathes. “So tired of everything.”

 

“I know.”

 

“And your _face_ ,” Alicia moans, “is a constant reminder of everything that happened.”

 

“Well, I wish I could make it heal faster, but –”

 

“It’ll always be a reminder,” Alicia says. “Hopefully a good reminder of why I chose to walk away.”

 

“Should I be offended?”

 

Alicia cracks a smile. “You know I love your face.” Her eyes widen suddenly, and Al raises her eyebrows. “Oh my God, I almost forgot.”

 

“What?”

 

“So everyone’s definitely talking behind our backs, you know, the way they all do about John and June, but that’s not even the best part. Charlie told Luci you and I would be good together back when we gave you the rest of my mom’s story. And when I told Luci I didn’t even like you then, Luci said Charlie’s reasoning was that I’m pretty and you’re _super hot_ so we should get together.”

 

Al busts out laughing. “Super hot, huh?”

 

Alicia grins. “Charlie has a major crush on you.”

 

“Can you blame her?” Al says, dramatically flipping her hair out of her eyes. “Look at me. I’m super hot, even with a broken nose and this nasty cut.”

 

They laugh together, and for a moment, Alicia almost feels normal. “Yeah,” Alicia agrees, “you’re just the shit. I shouldn’t have told you. Now you’re gonna act all stuck up.”

 

“I knew I was hot before the youngest person in our group developed a crush on me,” Al says. “It kind of explains why she’s always so weird with me, though.”

 

Alicia grins. “Oh, leave her alone. She’s young and in love. It’s probably because you rushed to defend her when I tried to kill her. You’re her hero.”

 

“Stop,” Al laughs, clutching at her chest. “That’s not funny.”

 

“It’s probably true, though,” Alicia muses. “C’mon. It’s cute.”

 

“It’s cute, but I’m _way_ too old for her.”

 

“And you have me,” Alicia reminds.

 

“Well, duh. But she’s twelve, Leesh. I don’t think you have anything to be worried about.”

 

“I’m not worried!” Alicia insists. “Well, I am, but I’m not worried about Charlie, like, coming onto you. Unless this is like that one movie where that little girl is secretly a thirty year old woman, but I’m pretty sure that’s not what’s going on. I’m worried she’s going to get hurt.”

 

Al’s eyebrows raise. “Hurt?”

 

“When she finds out about us.”

 

“She’s the one that said we should happen,” Al points out.

 

Alicia smiles. “But she likes you. I know I was devastated when I was twelve and found out my cute teacher was married.”

 

“She’ll grow out of it,” Al dismisses. “And in the meantime, I’ll be extra careful not to crush her feelings, okay? Since you’re so worried about her.”

 

“Is that a subtle dig at me?”

 

Al smirks. “You went from trying to kill her to worrying that her feelings will be hurt when she finds out the thirty year old she has a crush on is in a relationship. I think that’s progress.”

 

Alicia rolls her eyes. “You said it earlier. The dead eat the living and nothing makes any fucking sense.”

 

Al smiles and gets to her feet. She finally takes off her bloodstained jacket and tucks it away. She rolls the sleeves of her button down to her mid forearms and pops the top three buttons, adjusting the collar. Alicia stands as well, drawing Al’s eyes to her, then removes her leather jacket.

 

“Here,” Alicia says, holding the jacket out toward Al. “Take it.”

 

“I told you. That’s not my style.”

 

“I have other jackets,” Alicia says. “You can have this one.”

 

“That one’s your favorite.”

 

“I’m not as attached to my jackets as you are, Al,” Alicia says.

 

“It doesn’t match my outfit.”

 

“Yes it does,” Alicia snorts. “And it’s black, so blood won’t show up as well on it.”

 

She pushes the jacket into Al’s chest, and Al fumbles to catch it before it hits the ground, accidentally grazing her fingers against the back of Alicia’s hand. Alicia’s muscles tense, but after a moment, she forces herself to relax and holds her hand up.

 

“What?” Al says, cocking an eyebrow at Alicia.

 

“Just put your palm against mine.”

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“I don’t want to be afraid of touching you,” Alicia says. “So please just do it.”

 

Al nods warily and sets the jacket on the seats behind her. She presses her palm to Alicia’s, nothing more, and Alicia eventually links their fingers together. Alicia breathes deeply and lets her eyes close, and they stand in the aisle of the van, holding hands.

 

“You good?” Al asks.

 

“I’m better,” Alicia says. “I just need to shake off the feeling the nightmare left me with, you know?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“We should join the others,” Alicia says.

 

“Are we telling them?” Al questions.

 

Alicia hesitates. “Not yet. Sarah and Wendell are definitely drunk, so let’s give them the night. Tomorrow.”

 

“Alright,” Al agrees.

 

Alicia exhales and pulls her hand back from Al’s. “Stay there,” Alicia requests. She steps into Al’s space and carefully wraps her arms around Al’s waist, resting her head against Al’s shoulder. For a while, Al’s arms hang in midair until she determines it’s safe to return the embrace. Alicia clings to Al’s shirt, fists pressed against Al’s lower back, as she murmurs, “We have to go in there and act normal.”

 

“I know.” Al pauses. “I have to go in there and pretend like I don’t know poor Charlie thinks I’m super hot.”

 

“ _Al_ ,” Alicia warns.

 

“It’ll be okay,” Al says. “We’ll go in there, and even if we act weird, we can just attribute it to the shitty days we’ve been having.”

 

Alicia nods against Al’s shoulder. “And don’t act like you know Charlie has a huge crush on you.”

 

“Okay, I’ll play dumb. And you pretend like you aren’t planning to take off.”

 

“You too.”

 

“Deal,” Al says. “Okay. You should let go of me so we can go in.”

 

“Two more minutes.”

 

Alicia feels Al’s nod, and Alicia silently counts down the two minutes before she pulls back.

 

“Okay,” Alicia says. “Let’s go in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts/questions/concerns in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


	20. 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Here's the next chapter of Crash! I promise I haven't forgotten about When It's All Over - my summer classes are almost over, which means lots of work, and I'm still working weekends, so I have to find time to squeeze in writing and my focus has turned back to Crash. I'm absolutely intending on finishing my side project(s) as well.

A little bell dings when the gas station door opens, and Al’s eyes immediately go to Sarah, passed out under an empty shelf. Wendell’s snoring away in his wheelchair, his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes. Al shifts uncomfortably as all eyes go to her and Alicia, but mostly her. She’s wearing Alicia’s jacket, hands jammed into the pockets. The inside pockets hold Al’s two trench spikes that she found exactly where they were supposed to be in the van. Al looks from June to Morgan to Charlie, and she raises her eyebrows.

 

“What happened?” Al asks.

 

“Sarah won a drinking contest,” Luciana answers as Charlie giggles. “She’s sleeping it off.”

 

“We’re gone for less than an hour and you guys let Sarah and Wendell have a drinking contest,” Alicia says. “And it’s not like me and Al are the responsible ones.”

 

“It was a celebration,” Victor defends. He grabs a beer off a nearby shelf and holds it out. “Beer?”

 

“Yeah, give that here,” Al says, taking the beer from Victor. She waits for him to pop the cap off then downs half of it in one go. She offers the rest to Alicia, but Alicia shakes her head.

 

“Don’t kick start another competition,” Alicia warns.

 

“I’d win,” Al boasts.

 

“Not against me,” Victor says.

 

“Is that a challenge?”

 

“Guys,” Alicia cuts in. “No more drinking contests.”

 

“I agree,” Luciana pipes up. “We’re going to have to spend the night here already.”

 

“We need a plan,” Morgan says. “Now that we’re all here.”

 

“Sarah and Wendell are _out_ ,” June reminds. “Maybe we should wait until they wake up.”

 

“I already told you,” Victor says. “I have a plan.”

 

“But you haven’t shared it,” Luciana says.

 

“Tomorrow morning,” Alicia interjects. “We’ll talk about the plan tomorrow morning when everyone is sober. Until then, we should secure the area and figure out how we’re going to be spending the night while we’ve still got daylight to work with.”

 

Morgan nods. “We’ll split up,” he says. “Alicia, Al, Luciana, and Charlie, can you guys establish a perimeter around the station?”

 

“We’re on it,” Al says.

 

“There are a few shops around here,” Morgan continues. “I’ll take June and John, and we’ll scope them out. See if we can pick up anything useful. We can back the truck and van up to the front of the station, block off the entrance just in case there’s a breach in the perimeter.”

 

“Have some faith, Mo-Mo,” Al says, cracking a smile. “We’ll take care of the perimeter.”

 

“That isn’t my name,” Morgan says weakly, but Al’s already leading Alicia, Luciana, and Charlie outside. Al hears Morgan tell Victor to stay with Sarah and Wendell before the door shuts behind them. It’s a relatively isolated area, though Morgan’s right about the few shops. Small owned places, farther down the road. Al’s less concerned with those than she is the immediate perimeter. She leads her group to the van and unearths the stash of trip wires and cans. It’s something a human would easily slip under, but the dead aren’t as smart.

 

“How far out do you want to go?” Luciana asks.

 

“Not too far,” Al answers. “We’re only staying one night. And if we back the vehicles up to the front of the gas station, we can take watch from the hood of the truck.”

 

“So let’s take it out to just beyond the road,” Alicia says, motioning out ahead of them, “and wrap it around back, maybe about twenty feet out from the building?”

 

“Sounds good,” Al agrees. “Alicia, can you get started around back? We’ll connect the wires on the sides of the building, and Luci and Charlie can start stringing up the cans once we’ve got these up.”

 

Al pounds the first spike into the ground on the other side of the road when she hears the first growl. At the same time, the gas station door opens behind her, and she turns back to yell, “Hey! June! Don’t fuck up my perimeter when you come back!”

 

June sends her a thumbs up, and Al locates the source of the growling. She pulls the trench spike from her jacket and makes quick work of the dead before returning to finish setting up the perimeter. When they finish, Al personally checks the perimeter is secure and ushers Alicia, Luciana, and Charlie back inside to join Victor and the still passed out Sarah and Wendell. Victor cracks open another beer for himself, though when he notices Al staring, he grins and gets one for her, too.

 

“Cheers,” Victor says. “While you were setting up a perimeter, I got to hang out in here and babysit two drunks.”

 

“I should’ve tried drinking the apocalypse away a long time ago,” Al mutters. “But somewhere nice, like on a beach in Hawaii.”

 

“Instead you’re here,” Victor points out. “Drinking in a rundown gas station in middle of nowhere Texas.”

 

“Thanks for reminding me.”

 

The loud clatter of cans forces Al to set her beer down and brandish the trench spikes. Alicia beats her to the door, of course, already wielding the gun barrel, and Al knows it’s not the dead breaching her perimeter when Alicia peers outside and heaves a sigh. Al pushes past her, stepping out into the lot, and sure enough, John’s tangled up in the trip wire.

 

“Sorry?” he says as June tries to set him free.

 

“I thought I told you not to fuck up my perimeter,” Al says.

 

“You told her,” John says, motioning toward June. “You didn’t tell me. But hey, now you know it works. Which is good. It’s going to be pretty dark out here tonight.”

 

Al shakes her head and helps June free John, and together, they pull him back to his feet. With Morgan’s help, Al resets the perimeter then joins Morgan in rearranging the vehicles so they block the front entrance of the gas station.

 

“I’m guessing you didn’t find anything?” Al questions before they step back into the gas station.

 

“Nothing useful,” Morgan answers. “We’re lucky there’s food here, because all those shops are picked over.”

 

Sarah and Wendell have both finally woken up, and they’re arguing over who truly won the drinking contest. Sarah clearly drank the most, but she also passed out first, and Wendell tries to use that to disqualify her. Luciana tries to intervene, but everyone else is fine with letting them argue it out. Morgan and June collect as much of the food left in the gas station and rations it out so they’ll have enough for dinner and breakfast in the morning. Alicia scavenges for anything else that might be of use and comes up with a deck of cards.

 

“Who wants to gamble?” Alicia calls. _That_ breaks up the argument between Sarah and Wendell, and Victor breaks into the cash register to collect all the change to use as poker chips. They have to teach Charlie – and June – how to play, but before long, Charlie’s got the largest pile of coins in front of her, and June runs out of money before anyone else. Al, more than once, thinks about how she’s going to miss this when she takes off with Alicia. Al, more than once, is forced to seriously consider if she wants to give this up, especially once Victor and John start tossing handfuls of coins at each other after accusations of cheating are hurled first.

 

Dinner, unlike poker, is a quiet affair. Al and Alicia sit with their backs against the front windows, legs spread out ahead of them, sharing cans of beans and assorted fruit. The only part of their bodies that touch are their boots.

 

“So,” Victor announces as dinner’s wrapping up, “it’s been brought to my attention that we have _two_ couples amongst our ranks.”

 

Al rolls her eyes, and Alicia’s face blazes red. “Victor,” Alicia hisses. “Is this really necessary?”

 

“Yes,” Victor insists. “I just think I should propose a toast. But not with beer, because we’ve officially run out.” He sends a pointed look at Sarah and Wendell, and the two just grin and elbow each other. “I did find a case of Pepsi, so that’ll have to be good enough.”

 

“What are we toasting?” Luciana asks as Victor starts handing out cans.

 

“Finding love in the most hostile of environments,” Victor answers. He pops his can of Pepsi open and lifts it above his head. “And if either of you couples ever want to have an apocalypse wedding, I call being the best man. I give great speeches.”

 

They all laugh and go along with Victor’s toast, drinking Pepsi as a group. Al glances over at Alicia, at the troubled look etched into her face, and Al can’t help but wonder if Alicia’s having second thoughts about leaving.

 

“The sun’s going to set soon,” Morgan reminds. “We need to work out a watch system.”

 

“We can sit out on top of the truck,” Al pipes up. “It’ll give us a good view of our surroundings and keep us out of the way.”

 

Morgan nods. “We watch in pairs.”

 

“Dibs on going first,” Al calls.

 

“Take Charlie with you,” Morgan suggests. “So she doesn’t have to be up too late.”

 

Alicia bites back her protest, but only because Al whispers to her, “I’ll just take a double shift so we can be together,” and throws her a wink when Morgan’s back is turned. Everyone begins to spread out across the station, claiming their own area to sleep in. Al’s already decided she’s slipping into the van after her shift’s up. She’s not sleeping on a hard tile floor.

 

Al and Charlie head out for the first watch once the sun has nearly fully set. Al links her fingers together and boosts Charlie up onto the hood of the truck before climbing up herself, sitting cross-legged with her back pressed against the windshield. It’s a warm night, but there’s a nice breeze, so Al doesn’t have to take off Alicia’s jacket. She would’ve brought a book or something if there was any source of light besides the stars. But staring up at the sky, free of any light pollution, is good enough, Al supposes.

 

“Do you ever wish you could go back?” Charlie asks.

 

“Hmm? Go back?”

 

“Yeah,” Charlie says. She doesn’t look at Al; she’s staring off somewhere into the dark sky. “Back in time.”

 

“I think we all do.”

 

“I wouldn’t even go back that far, though,” Charlie says. “I’d just want to stop myself from killing Alicia’s brother.”

 

Al’s muscles tense. She considers her next words carefully before she speaks them. “She isn’t holding that over you, you know.”

 

“I know,” Charlie says. “But sometimes I think – never mind.”

 

“No, go ahead.”

 

Charlie looks away from the sky, over to Al. “Sometimes I think you shouldn’t have stopped her from killing me,” Charlie says softly. “It’s what I deserved. And she almost killed you in my place instead.”

 

Al waves her hand dismissively. “I’ve found it’s not helpful to look back and consider all the _what if_ scenarios.”

 

“It’s hard not to.”

 

Al hums in agreement. “I like to think, no matter what you could’ve done differently, we’re all ultimately going to end up in the same spot.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean,” Al explains, “the general path your life’s going to take stays relatively the same, no matter what choices you make. So even if you didn’t shoot Nick at the particular time that you did…”

 

“I’d still end up shooting him one way or another,” Charlie mutters. “Was that supposed to make me feel better?”

 

“Not necessarily,” Al says. “But I like to think some things are set in stone. Even if we don’t know it.”

 

“Like you and Alicia?”

 

Al laughs. “Maybe,” she concedes. “I think John and June serve as a better example, personally. They’ve got that weird, intense soulmate thing going on.”

 

“And you and Alicia don’t?”

 

Al smiles. “I don’t believe in soulmates.”

 

“But John and June –”

 

“Act like they’re soulmates,” Al finishes.

 

“So you don’t believe in soulmates but you believe in fate?” Charlie questions.

 

Al shrugs. “Honestly, kid? I have no clue. I’m just…guessing.”

 

“I thought adults were supposed to know things.”

 

Al laughs. “Yeah, maybe before the dead rose.”

 

Al only lets an hour pass before she sends Charlie inside to retrieve Alicia. Alicia strolls out of the gas station and immediately calls, “Keys!”

 

Al’s eyebrows pull together. “I’m sorry?”

 

Alicia holds her hands out. “Toss me your keys!”

 

Al throws Alicia her keys before she asks what she needs them for, and Alicia unlocks the van and disappears inside. For half a second, Al’s afraid Alicia’s just going to drive off right this second, but Alicia emerges from the back with a handful of maps and a flashlight, and Al relaxes. Alicia joins her on the hood of the truck and slaps the maps and the keys in the space between her and Al. Al pockets the keys as Alicia begins unfolding the first map.

 

“First we have to find where the hell we are,” Alicia says.

 

“Did you sleep at all?” Al questions.

 

Alicia snorts. “You’ve barely been on watch an hour. No, I didn’t sleep, but I was bored so I’m glad you sent Charlie to get me. Help me find our location.”

 

It takes them twenty minutes and three different maps before they pinpoint their location. Alicia holds her finger on the spot as her eyes dance around the map. Al keeps the flashlight aimed at the map, but her eyes flick over to the gas station. She lost track of how much time has passed, but the last thing she needs is Morgan stomping out here to ask why she hasn’t traded off yet.

 

“We could go anywhere,” Alicia declares. “We don’t even _need_ a map. We could just drive.”

 

“No,” Al replies. “It’s smarter to have a destination in mind so we don’t run out of fuel and leave ourselves stranded.”

 

“Oh,” Alicia says. “Yeah. You’re right.”

 

“You’re getting a little too excited,” Al says, grinning.

 

“Seattle could be nice,” Alicia muses.

 

“Cities –”

 

“The general Seattle area,” Alicia corrects.

 

“I don’t think I have a map of Washington.”

 

“We can get one,” Alicia says. “Bookstores carry maps, right?”

 

Al sighs. “Yeah, normally. Alicia, you’re sure you want to go?”

 

“Yes. But you aren’t.”

 

“I didn’t say that.”

 

“It was implied.”

 

“I told you,” Al says quietly. “I go where you go.”

 

“But you don’t want to leave everyone behind.”

 

“Everything is happening fast,” Al says, “and I’m just trying to make sure you’re making the right decision.”

 

“I’m sure,” Alicia insists. There’s a pause. “If you’re not up for Seattle, we can go somewhere else.”

 

“You mean you don’t want to be a potato farmer in Idaho?” Al cracks.

 

Alicia, bless her soul, actually considers that idea for a moment. “Do you?” she asks.

 

“No.”

 

Alicia sighs in relief. “You scared me for a second.”

 

The bell dings, startling both Al and Alicia, and Al barely manages to keep ahold of the flashlight. “Isn’t your watch up yet, Al?” June calls, rubbing at her eyes. “I think it was my turn ten minutes ago.”

 

“It’s okay,” Al says. “I’m not tired.”

 

“You should still – what are you doing?”

 

June walks closer to the truck, staring up at the maps spread out across the hood. Alicia looks to Al, and luckily, Al thinks fast and answers, “We’re trying to find where we’re at. It’s not like we’ve got anything better to do out here. There are no dead in sight.”

 

June nods, putting her hands on her hips, but a suspicious look lingers on her face. “I can take over,” she says. “You should get some rest. Whatever Victor has in mind is probably going to require some energy.”

 

“Go,” Alicia whispers, briefly covering Al’s hand with her own. “I’ll meet you there when my shift is up.”

 

Al nods and passes the flashlight to Alicia, hopping down from the truck as June climbs up. “If you need me,” Al says, dangling her keys off the end of her finger, “you know where to find me.”

 

“You can’t just sleep inside with everyone else?” June questions.

 

Al snorts. “My seats are more comfortable than that floor, and I can hear Morgan snoring out here. No thanks.”

 

Al sets up a bed for herself in the back of the van, but when she’s finished, she sits on the seats across from it, bouncing her leg. She waits until there’s a light knock on the back of the van and springs up to let Alicia in, locking the doors behind her.

 

“So?” Al says.

 

“So what?” Alicia replies. Her eyes drop to the bed Al’s put together, but she throws the maps down on the empty set of seats.

 

“Did June say anything?”

 

“A lot,” Alicia says. “June likes to talk, but if she has concerns, I bet she’d bring them to you, not me.”

 

“Yeah,” Al agrees.

 

“So,” Alicia says, hooking her thumbs through the belt loops on her jeans, “Seattle?”

 

Al smiles and nods. “The Seattle area.”

 

“We could live in the Space Needle,” Alicia jokes.

 

Al laughs. “One, we’d be dead before we’d ever get there. Two, I don’t think you can actually live in the Space Needle.”

 

“It was a _joke_ ,” Alicia says. She pushes her fist against Al’s stomach. “Geez.” She stops to think for a moment. “Maybe we don’t have to go all the way to Washington,” she says. “I bet Oregon’s nice.”

 

“Oregon?”

 

“We could live on a farm in Oregon,” Alicia says, only half joking. “Better than being a potato farmer in Idaho.”

 

“Yeah, but how hard can farming potatoes really be?”

 

“What do you know about potatoes?” Alicia questions.

 

Al grins. “They taste good.”

 

Alicia shakes her head. “We need to find maps first,” she says. “So we can actually plan our route.”

 

“To Oregon?”

 

“Or Washington,” Alicia says, “if Oregon doesn’t work out.”

 

“Okay,” Al agrees. “First, we get the maps.”

 

“No,” Alicia says softly. “First we have to tell everyone we’re leaving.”

 

“Way to kill the mood.”

 

“Yeah,” Alicia mutters. “I don’t suppose you made that bed up for me.”

 

“I did not,” Al says. “But if you want to try to squeeze on there with me, be my guest.” Al hesitates. “Or I can make a bed –”

 

“No, we’re definitely sharing,” Alicia says.

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“God, _yes_. This is our first night actually alone in forever.”

 

“The timing is awful, isn’t it?”

 

Alicia’s face falls. “Why?”

 

“My nose is fucked up, my hand’s not totally healed, your lip is split and your wrists are cut shreds.”

 

“So?”

 

“So?” Al laughs. “That’s some painful sex.”

 

“You just gotta get creative.”

 

“Two a.m. is no time for creativity.”

 

“It’s the perfect time,” Alicia says cheerfully.

 

“Alicia, all you have to do is, like, poke your lip the wrong way and it splits back open. And your wrists need to heal.”

 

“And your face,” Alicia grumbles. “Damn it.”

 

“We’ll have plenty of time out in Oregon or Washington or whatever state you want. We’re just going to be learning how to farm and having lots of sex.”

 

A smile flickers on Alicia’s face. “Fine.”

 

“Stop being pouty,” Al teases. “We should try to sleep. We’ve got to break our friends’ hearts in the morning.” Al pauses. “You’re sure you want to share the bed? I can just sleep –”

 

“I’m sure,” Alicia says. “Maybe it’ll stop me from having another nightmare.”

 

Al frowns. “Or it’ll be worse.”

 

“Don’t put that thought in my head.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

Alicia takes up the spot next to the wall, so if someone’s going to be falling from the seats, it’s going to be Al. Alicia, though, immediately wraps her arms around Al’s waist and clings to her, so if Al falls, Alicia’s going with her. Just when Al thinks Alicia’s fallen asleep, Alicia mumbles, “Can we at least sleep naked? It’s hot in here.”

 

“What if we get ambushed?”

 

Alicia pulls back slightly. “Then that’s a sacrifice we make, I guess.”

 

“Fine,” Al agrees, “but only if you’re the one that tells everyone we’re leaving.”

 

Alicia rolls her eyes. “I was gonna do that anyway.”

 

“You better hope we wake up early,” Al says, kicking her boots off. “We don’t need a wakeup call from Morgan while we’re both buck-ass naked.”

 

“The van is locked,” Alicia dismisses. She nearly knocks Al off the seats in her struggle to get her shirt off. “And I bet you John and June are out there doing it on the truck,” Alicia adds as Al steadies herself. “So it could be worse.”

 

“That’s not a mental image I needed.”

 

Alicia shushes her. “Get naked faster and stop thinking about John and June.”

 

“Stop bringing them up.”

 

They laugh together before Al decides to just get up and undress quicker – and without the threat of Alicia kneeing her in the crotch as she tries to get out of her pants. Al accidentally peers out the window toward the truck, and John and June are definitely swapping spit – which probably shouldn’t be allowed when you’re on watch – and Al quickly looks away.

 

“Well, they aren’t doing it yet,” she informs. “But they’re probably about to be.”

 

Alicia makes a disgusted sound then says, “Now why would you tell me that?”

 

“If I had to know, so did you.”

 

“This was a terrible idea,” Alicia complains as Al rejoins her on the seats. Al opens her arms, lets Alicia slide back against her.

 

“What? Did I just get naked for nothing?”

 

“No,” Alicia says, pressing her hands flat against Al’s lower back. “But now we’re naked and we can’t even have sex.”

 

Al laughs. “You knew that going into this, sweetheart.”

 

“That’s why it was a terrible idea,” Alicia huffs.

 

Al pauses for a moment. “Okay, here’s the thing,” she says. “It’s going to be really bad sex.”

 

“Bad sex is better than no sex,” Alicia says.

 

“I’m not left handed, so don’t judge me.”

 

“I won’t,” Alicia whines. “Hurry up.”

 

Al ducks back before Alicia can kiss her. “And you have to do nothing,” Al says. “I don’t need you splitting your lip back open or hurting your wrists even more.”

 

“That isn’t fair!”

 

“Those are the terms. Take it or leave it.”

 

“Fine,” Alicia agrees quickly. “But I owe you.”

 

“Obviously.”

 

Alicia grabs Al’s left wrist. “No more talking.”

 

A loud banging on the back of the van startles both Alicia and Al, and they only just manage to keep from falling off the seats.

 

“Al!” June calls.

 

“What?” Al yells back.

 

“We need you out here! Both of you!”

 

“Can’t it wait?” Alicia shouts.

 

“No,” June answers. “We have incoming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I still do not know how many chapters I will need to reach the end, I do know the end is growing near. I don't want to get anyone's hopes up, but a sequel is a possibility if I'm struck with the inspiration.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts/questions/concerns in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


	21. 21

Leave it to June to interrupt them. Alicia seethes as she scrambles back into her clothes and grabs the gun barrel off the shelf. She grumbles to herself as Al finishes getting dressed and arms herself.

 

“Can you see anything?” Al asks.

 

Alicia peers out the window. “No,” she answers.

 

“June sounded freaked out,” Al says. Her eyes flick toward her rifle, an action Alicia doesn’t miss.

 

“Load it,” Alicia instructs. “Get on top of the van and watch our backs.”

 

“I’m not a sniper,” Al reminds.

 

“You’re a better shot than most of us,” Alicia replies. “But it’s dark, so, you know, don’t accidentally blow any of our brains out.”

 

“I’ll do my best,” Al grunts. She reaches for the rifle, but Alicia grabs her by the side of the head and pulls her in to kiss her quickly.

 

“Be safe,” Alicia says, wincing at the way her lip throbs.

 

“I’ll be safer on top of the van than you’ll be out there,” Al says. “Hey.” She catches Alicia’s forearm in her grasp before Alicia can leave. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too,” Alicia breathes. “I’ll be okay.”

 

Al nods. If she has any other concerns, she doesn’t voice them. Alicia exits the van first, gun barrel in hand, and joins up with Luciana and Victor.

 

“Al’s got our backs,” she tells them. Luciana and Victor glance over to where Al’s climbing to the roof of the van, rifle in one hand, box of ammo in the other, and they both nod solemnly. “Where are the dead?” Alicia asks when neither Luciana nor Victor speaks.

 

Luciana points down the road from the way they’d arrived. “We’re assuming they followed the sound of the truck,” she says quietly.

 

“And they’re just now catching up to us,” Victor finishes.

 

“Where’s Charlie?” Alicia asks. She spots June, John, Morgan, and Wendell by the truck, and Al’s already settled on her stomach on the van.

 

“Inside with Sarah,” Luciana informs. “Sarah’s too hungover to be trusted with any kind of weapon right now.”

 

“So you’re trusting her with a child?” Alicia questions.

 

Victor shrugs. “Why not? We’re the first line of defense, and if we go down, it doesn’t really matter, does it? Sarah can’t single handedly hold off a hundred dead, hungover or not.”

 

“How are we gonna do this?” Alicia mutters.

 

“Quickly and carefully,” Victor says, flashing a smile. It doesn’t quite meet his eyes, though. “We should spread out,” he continues, “so they can’t get us surrounded.”

 

As if reading Victor’s mind, that’s exactly what Morgan tells them to do. They each take up a spot in the front of the gas station, with Alicia positioning herself right in front of the SWAT van. She grips onto the gun barrel tightly as the dead come into view, shambling up the road in their direction. To her left, in front of the military truck, is Luciana. To her right is Victor, dismantling the perimeter they set up earlier. Cans clatter to the pavement, but the dead have already locked onto them, so the sound doesn’t matter.

 

Morgan’s giving a speech to try to rally them or something, but Alicia’s tuning him out. Her eyes go from the approaching dead to Al; back and forth. She doesn’t stop looking back at Al until the dead are close enough for her to reach. As expected, the majority go for Morgan, since he’s the first stop down the line. John and June help Morgan keep the dead at bay while the stragglers head for Luciana, Alicia, and Victor. Wendell brings up the end of the line, shotgun in his hands.

 

One misstep. That’s all it takes for someone to die. Alicia tries to put that thought out of her mind as she kills the first of many dead. She yanks the barrel free of the dead’s brain and kicks the corpse into its oncoming buddies, buying herself precious seconds to kill the dead trying to sneak up on her left. The rifle fires behind Alicia, and one of the dead in front of her drops to the ground thanks to Al. Quickly, though, Al’s forced to pick off four or five of the dead surrounding Morgan, John, and June, leaving Alicia to fend off the next handful by herself. Which is fine. She handles it, no problem. To be fair, Luciana kills one of the dead that probably technically belongs to Alicia.

 

Maybe it’s because it’s the middle of the night. Maybe it was having the promise of sex yanked away from her. Whatever reason, Alicia tires out quickly. Her muscles ache, and her head pounds, and each dead she kills makes it worse. Al’s almost constantly firing from the top of the van until she has to reload, and only then does the gunfire stop for a few moments. The gunshots are only slightly louder than the collective snarling of the dead.

 

For a moment, Alicia thinks maybe being a potato farmer in Idaho wouldn’t be so bad. Idaho’s a lot closer than Oregon or Washington. Alicia spears herself another dead straight through the mouth and flings the corpse aside. She’s practically surrounding herself with motionless corpses, which turns out to be a good thing, because it makes it harder for the very much not motionless corpses to easily reach her. That false sense of security added onto Alicia’s exhaustion turns out to be a bad combination. As Alicia jams the end of the gun barrel through the eye socket of the dead in front of her, one grabs at her from the exposed side of barrier of corpses and yanks her off balance.

 

Alicia loses her grasp on the barrel and stumbles toward the dead that’s pulling on her. She also loses her footing, and she goes down, taking the dead with her. She immediately fumbles to hold it off, but she can’t tell where its head – or mouth – is at right away. Sometimes, in life or death situations, time slows down, but Alicia isn’t lucky enough for that. Time actually seems to speed up, and the next thing Alicia knows, the face of the dead is right above hers.

 

The dead are always disgusting, but this one is a whole new level of nasty. Its teeth are all broken, and one of its eyes hangs free from its socket. The dead weight of the corpse keeps her lower body pinned beneath it, and the only thing Alicia can do is struggle to keep its mouth – and its prying hands – away from her. Alicia’s wrists ache from the pressure put on them. Within the next few seconds, Alicia’s feeble grasp on its chest will break beneath its weight, and she’s toast. Having a chunk of flesh torn out of her face really isn’t the way she wants to go out.

 

There’s the sound of boots against metal, and Al hits the ground right beside Alicia, momentarily distracting the dead. Alicia doesn’t have the strength to haul it off of her, but she’s spared when Al grabs it by the back of the shirt and does the dirty work for her. Except, to perform that action, Al has no choice but to drag the dead closer to herself, and it very happily gets to its feet for her.

 

The sheer force of the bite is enough to make Al scream – half out of panic. In the next moment, Al sends her fist into the side of the dead’s head, and the trench spike does the rest of the work. Its jaws release, and the body drops to the ground with the others.

 

“Al!” June yells, but she’s tied up with the dead, same as John and Morgan.

 

“Hold them off!” Alicia commands. She frees the gun barrel from her last kill, slashes it through the face of the nearest dead, and turns back to Al, eyes wide. “Did it get you?” Alicia breathes.

 

Al clutches at her arm, jaw hanging open, and Alicia pushes Al’s hand aside. It’s dark, but it’s clear the dead’s teeth didn’t manage to bite completely through the leather of Alicia’s jacket. There are teeth shaped marks in the leather now, though. Alicia shoves the jacket and Al’s shirt sleeve up and inspects her bare skin. Not even a mark. Al winces when Alicia’s fingers touch the spot the dead had chomped down on, and Alicia bets there’ll be a bruise there in the morning.

 

“Alicia,” Al says, and Alicia instantly whips around and dispatches two more dead before they reach them.

 

“It didn’t get you,” Alicia says.

 

“It didn’t.”

 

Alicia sighs in relief. “You’re keeping that jacket.”

 

“Yeah,” Al mutters. “Gladly.”

 

Alicia nods, swallowing hard and swiping at the sweat beading on her forehead. “Thanks,” Alicia says. “For not letting it get me. And for not dying yourself.”

 

“Yeah. Anytime.”

 

“And you thought you’d be safer on top of the van,” Alicia jokes weakly. Her hands tremble, but she grips onto the barrel so tight, the shaking stops. “The rifle?”

 

“I ran out of bullets.”

 

Alicia nods once more. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

 

They join John, June, and Morgan at the front, pretty much preventing any of the dead from reaching Luciana, Victor, or Wendell. Alicia’s exhaustion is gone, thanks to the pure terror running through her veins, and she puts it toward killing every last dead thing that comes her way. Every chance Alicia gets, she puts herself between the dead and Al. First, the barrel has a longer reach than Al’s trench spike. Second, they already had a call so close that Alicia’s heart still hasn’t stopped hammering in her throat, so she’s going to do most of the killing.

 

After what feels like hours – and probably _was_ hours – most of the dead have been killed, save for the ones at the very back of the pack that have yet to make their way over. Victor volunteers to head up the road with Wendell and Luciana to search for the remaining few, now that the sun is beginning to rise. Alicia cleans most of the blood off the gun barrel, wiping it on the clothes of the bodies around them, as Morgan and John round the corpses up on the other side of the road for a mass burning. While Alicia takes care of the gun barrel, June makes her way over to Al.

 

Alicia pauses for a moment then continues wiping the blood from the barrel, albeit while listening in on Al’s conversation with June. She can see them out of the corner of her eye, and she slows down her cleaning efforts so she can watch. Alicia almost feels bad about eavesdropping. Almost.

 

“Did it get you?” June asks breathlessly.

 

“Sort of?” Al says, twisting her arm to show off the indentations in the leather. “It didn’t get through,” she adds, but June’s hands are already on her, tugging the jacket up. “I’m fine,” Al insists, but June still has a look at her arm anyway. Sarah and Charlie emerge from the gas station to offer assistance to John and Morgan as June prods at Al’s arm. “Stop poking at my bruises,” Al laughs, swatting June’s hands away.

 

Alicia’s eyes set on the grin on Al’s face, and for a second, a strong emotion flashes hot in her chest. Something negative. Alicia contains it quickly, keeps her expression blank, and inspects her work on the gun barrel. As clean as it’s gonna get without water. She stands slowly as John and Morgan approach her and offer to take the corpse. Alicia nods wearily and hangs the barrel on her belt as Al and June continue laughing over something Alicia missed during her short interaction with John and Morgan.

 

“You’re lucky,” June finally says, getting serious once more. “If you hadn’t been wearing that jacket –”

 

“I know,” Al says. “And if its teeth had landed anywhere else, I would’ve been screwed. I knew the potential consequences of my actions.”

 

June purses her lips and shrugs. “Just be careful,” she suggests, clapping Al on the shoulder. Al shakes her head to herself and climbs back up onto the van to retrieve the empty rifle. She slings it over her shoulder, standing on the roof and looking out at their surroundings. Whatever she sees, she seems to be satisfied, because she returns to the ground and approaches Alicia with a goofy smile on her face.

 

“What’re you smirking about?” Alicia grumbles. She jabs Al in the stomach playfully and takes pleasure in the way Al squirms away from the touch.

 

“It’s gonna be a nice day, I think,” Al declares.

 

Alicia laughs. “Only because you cheated death.”

 

“Again,” Al points out. She wraps her arm around Alicia’s neck, pulls Alicia into her, and exhales heavily. “And you cheated death, too, so yeah, it’s gonna be a nice fucking day. Don’t ruin it for me.”

 

“I won’t,” Alicia says, grasping at the leather jacket at Al’s back. “How long can we keep cheating death, though?”

 

“A long time, if we become potato farmers in Idaho,” Al says.

 

Alicia laughs against Al’s neck and holds on tighter. “Knock it off about the potato farming.”

 

“I like potatoes.”

 

“You guys ready for a mass funeral?” John hollers, waving them over.

 

“Shouldn’t we wait for the others?” Al replies. She releases her hold on Alicia, and they walk together toward the giant pile of corpses.

 

“Nah,” John says. “It’s not that big ‘a deal. I just feel sorry for the poor souls.”

 

“You want to say a few words?” Alicia cracks.

 

John considers the question seriously. “I think they’d understand why I’d rather not,” John says. “Morgan, you ready, buddy?”

 

They all step back while Morgan sets the fire and watch the bodies burn from the parking lot. As soon as the smell reaches them, Alicia’s nose wrinkles, and she pulls her shirt up over her nose. Al’s hand presses against Alicia’s lower back, and she doesn’t argue when Al motions for them to go inside the gas station.

 

“What’s up?” Alicia says, dropping her shirt from her nose.

 

“I just wanted to be away from that smell,” Al says.

 

“Are you okay?” Alicia blurts. “You almost got bit, Al.”

 

Al grins lopsidedly and shrugs. “I’m great. I’m sure that’s probably the sleep deprivation talking –”

 

“Be serious.”

 

Al drops the grin. “I’m fine,” she assures Alicia, taking hold of her by the shoulders. “It’s just a bruise, and after all this,” she lifts a hand to motion at her face, “I can handle a bruise.”

 

“You could’ve died.”

 

“But did I?” Al says.

 

“You could’ve died _for me_.”

 

“Better than dying for some other reason,” Al dismisses. She glances back at the burning bodies, and Alicia follows her gaze, spotting Victor, Wendell, and Luciana’s return. “We have to tell them,” Al murmurs.

 

“What?”

 

“Well, you have to tell them,” Al corrects, turning her gaze back to Alicia. She lets go of Alicia’s shoulders and jams her hands into the pockets of the jacket. “That we’re leaving,” Al adds.

 

“I have to tell them?”

 

“That’s what we agreed last night,” Al reminds.

 

“I think they’d take it better from you,” Alicia snorts.

 

“Oh, you’re gonna make me do it?” Al challenges, raising an eyebrow. “After I almost got my arm bitten off for you?”

 

“That’s not fair,” Alicia mumbles. “Don’t throw that in my face.”

 

Al smiles. “I’m kidding, Alicia. I’m good. If you really want me to tell them –”

 

“I can do it,” Alicia interrupts.

 

“Make up your mind, sweetheart,” Al says.

 

“I got it,” Alicia says.

 

“Hey,” Al says softly. She touches her fingertips to Alicia’s jaw, but Alicia won’t meet her eyes. “It’s going to be okay.”

 

Alicia reaches up, pulls Al’s hand away from her face, holding it against her chest instead. “Kiss me,” Alicia says. “Just be careful with my lip.”

 

Al nods, tips her head down, and kisses Alicia gently. Their lips have just barely touched when there’s a sharp knock on the glass behind them, and both Alicia and Al jolt and break apart. Alicia’s face heats up as her eyes land on Charlie through the window, but Charlie just points at the group by the waning fire and motions for them to join.

 

“God, we can’t get one moment to ourselves, can we?” Al grumbles.

 

“Soon,” Alicia says quietly. “We’ll have all the time in the world.”

 

Alicia slips her fingers through Al, and Al doesn’t resist, leading them out the door back to the rest of the group. The smell of burned, decayed flesh hangs in the air, and Alicia commits to breathing through her mouth for a while.

 

“Ready to hear my plan?” Victor questions.

 

“As ready as ever,” John says, adjusting his hat.

 

Victor smiles, putting his hands on his hips, and pauses for dramatic effect. “So Daniel Salazar has a warehouse,” Victor informs. “A large amount of property. I saw it when I went to beg him for his plane.”

 

Immediately, everyone begins talking over each other. Victor hasn’t even had the chance to lay out his plan, but Morgan and June are trying to shoot it down already while Sarah and Wendell shout about getting properly armed. John tries to calm June down, Charlie says something like _you can’t be serious_ , and Luciana complains about the stupidity of all of their plans.

 

A gunshot startles everyone into silence, and John lowers his revolver from above his head, holstering it at his hip. “Everyone just calm down now,” he says. “Victor, please finish, then everyone will get their turn to speak, okay?”

 

“I’m not planning to storm his warehouse and steal it like Logan stole our place,” Victor says, directly addressing Morgan and June’s concerns. “The plan is stupid,” he says to Luciana, “but it’ll work. And we don’t need to arm ourselves to the teeth.” Victor sends a pointed look to Sarah and Wendell, and they both roll their eyes and mutter something about finding big guns anyway. “We just need to show up,” Victor says. “All of us. Together. Once Daniel sees he was wrong about me –”

 

“He’ll offer us a place to stay while we figure out how to get the factory back?” Alicia blurts.

 

Victor points at her. “Exactly.”

 

“Okay,” John says, holding his hands out to keep everyone silent. “Now we’re going to take turns. We’ll start with Luci.”

 

“You really think he’s just going to help us?” Luciana questions. “Because you show up with a few friends?”

 

“I think he won’t have much of a choice,” Victor says.

 

John looks to Morgan, but Morgan waves his hand in a pass, sending it to June. “I think this is dangerous,” June says. “Too much of a risk. We can come up with something better.”

 

“He can help us retake the factory,” Victor says. “He has the supplies to do it, certainly, based on what he said on Al’s tape.”

 

“Al?” John prompts.

 

Al shakes her head. “Pass,” she says. Alicia’s grip tightens on Al’s hand, but John turns the floor to Sarah.

 

“I say let’s do it,” Sarah says. “And if he doesn’t cooperate, we storm the place.” She whoops and fist bumps Wendell.

 

“I agree,” Wendell says. “We can make this plan work. It’s a good start to getting our home back.”

 

All eyes land on Alicia. She looks from Victor to Luciana to Morgan then blurts, “We’re leaving.”

 

Silence. June is the first person to find words. Well, one word. “What?”

 

“We’re leaving,” Alicia repeats. She lifts her hand, clasped in Al’s, and waves them around weakly. “Me and Al. Together. We’re going.”

 

“You’re doing a great job,” Al murmurs in Alicia’s ear, and Alicia has to resist the urge to punch her in the arm. Alicia had a Morgan-esque speech in mind, but that’s long gone. Alicia lowers their hands back to their sides and winces as everyone starts to recover from the initial shock.

 

“Leaving?” June says. “Leaving to where?”

 

“We haven’t decided yet,” Al answers, sparing Alicia. “Maybe Oregon. Or Washington. Somewhere north.”

 

“Why?” Sarah asks. “We’re too much fun for you to handle?”

 

“You missed Alicia’s outburst on the way over here,” Al says. “She can’t take this helping people thing anymore.”

 

“We’re all risking our lives, and we’ve helped no one, and we’ve lost our home,” Alicia jumps in. “And I can’t do that anymore. Not after what happened…while we were stranded.”

 

“You don’t have to rush,” Morgan says. “We have time to talk about this.”

 

Alicia shakes her head. “I need to go – _we_ need to go, especially because Victor’s plan is _very_ dangerous and _very_ stupid. I don’t trust Daniel not to blow our heads off the moment he sees us.”

 

“If it’s my plan that’s the problem, I can amend it,” Victor offers.

 

“Your plan is an extremely small part of the problem,” Alicia says. “It’s mostly – I just can’t do this anymore, okay?”

 

Victor nods, and Alicia thinks he might be the only other person besides Al that really understands where she’s coming from. John clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck, but he doesn’t say anything. June grasps onto his arm and looks at him like she wants him to say something, but John’s mouth stays shut. No one else speaks up, either. Luciana stares at Alicia, wearing a look that might be something akin to betrayal.

 

“Let’s all take some time,” Victor finally says. “Let everything sink in.”

 

“We need to move soon,” Morgan says. “Our massacre certainly drew the attention of others in the area, and I bet you we’ll have more visitors soon.”

 

Everyone disperses, mostly heading back for the gas station. Sarah says something about wishing she hadn’t drank all the beer yesterday on her way by, and Charlie joins up with Victor as Alicia and Al are separately approached, Alicia by Luciana and Morgan, and Al by John and June. Al gives Alicia’s hand a quick squeeze then lets go, stepping up to meet John and June while Alicia is forced to take on Luciana and Morgan.

 

“So this is why you talked about giving up the factory?” Luciana hisses. “You were planning on leaving this whole time?”

 

Alicia flinches. “Luci, I’m sorry, but you still want to help people. You don’t want to settle in some smaller place of our own, do you?” When Luciana doesn’t answer, Alicia says, “Exactly. You still believe in what you’re doing, but I just – I need to find a place of my own and make it safe, the way my mom would’ve wanted.”

 

To Alicia’s surprise, Luciana hugs her tightly. “You better stay safe, then,” Luciana whispers. She pulls back, cups Alicia’s cheek in her hand, and smiles in spite of the tears welling in her eyes. Alicia nods and manages a smile of her own.

 

“If you’re ever passing through Oregon…” Alicia begins, but Luciana’s laughter cuts her off, and Alicia figures Luciana understands what she means. Alicia’s eyes flick to Morgan, but he just rubs at the stubble on his jaw and shakes his head. Whatever he intended to say is gone, apparently, so Alicia turns her gaze the other way, toward Al, John, and June. Alicia’s goodbyes to Luciana and Victor will be the hardest, and Alicia knows Al’s hardest goodbyes are going to be John and June. Alicia can only see the back of Al’s head from here, but based on the looks on John and June’s faces, Alicia can guess at the pain reflected in Al’s face.

 

For half a second, Alicia second guesses her decision to leave. But the hesitation passes quickly. Alicia watches as Al hugs John for a long time, but Morgan clears his throat and brings Alicia’s eyes back to him.

 

“One more night,” Morgan requests. “You and Al stay one more night. Please. Think it over. Make sure this is what you want.”

 

Alicia sighs but nods. “One more night,” she agrees. “But I know this is what I want, Morgan. You’re doing what you think is right, and so am I.”

 

“I know,” Morgan says.

 

Alicia looks back at Al again, at the way June clutches onto her and cries into her shoulder, and Alicia flinches once more.

 

“Is there anything we can help you with?” Luciana asks. “Before you go?”

 

“We need maps,” Alicia says, cracking a smile. “You think we can find out if there’s a bookstore or something in this area?”

 

Luciana grins. “Of course. I’ll have Charlie help me out. We should let her come with,” Luciana suggests. “I know she’s crushed about your news.”

 

“I’ll take care of it,” Alicia says. She glances at Al, and June’s still got her arms around Al’s neck, but she’s not crying as much anymore. John lingers behind them, hat tilted forward, concealing his eyes. He’s got his hands in his pockets, and as far as Alicia can tell, he’s not even slightly bothered by how long June’s been hanging onto Al. “I should talk to Victor,” Alicia says abruptly.

 

Luciana nods and pats Alicia on the shoulder before she returns to the gas station. Sarah’s seated on the counter next to the cash register, tossing peanuts into the air and catching them in her mouth. Wendell’s demonstrating some of the magic tricks he’s been trying to learn to Charlie, and Victor’s nowhere in sight.

 

“Victor?” Alicia questions.

 

“He’s in the back,” Sarah informs. “Bathroom or something.”

 

Alicia heads into the back in search of Victor, and sure enough, the bathroom door swings open just as she gets there.

 

“Jesus!” Victor exclaims. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

 

“Sorry,” Alicia says with a grin.

 

“Why are you following me to the bathroom anyway?” Victor asks. “That’s a little weird, even for you.”

 

“I just felt like – I felt like –”

 

“You should talk to me,” Victor finishes.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“What’s there to talk about?” Victor questions. “You’ve made up your mind. I trust you know how to make the right decisions for you.”

 

“I guess I just needed to hear that.”

 

Victor smiles and grasps onto Alicia’s shoulder. “Your mom would be proud,” he tells her. “I know this won’t be the last time we’ll ever meet.”

 

Alicia nods, suddenly unable to speak. She swallows and barely manages to choke out, “Take care of them, Victor.”

 

He nods. “Take care of yourself.”

 

“You aren’t worried?” Alicia asks weakly.

 

“About you? No,” Victor laughs. “You’ll have Al. She has her head screwed on straight. At least when it comes to you.”

 

Alicia hugs him, quickly, then whispers, “I’m serious. Keep them out of trouble.”

 

“Keep yourself out of trouble.”

 

Alicia rolls her eyes. “Al wants to be a potato farmer in Idaho. I’m pretty sure we’ll stay out of trouble.”

 

Victor chuckles. “You know, she could pick a worse way to live out the apocalypse.”

 

“I guess I’ll just be happy she isn’t determined to travel the country and collect as many stories as possible.”

 

“Don’t speak so soon,” Victor says. “So when do you leave?”

 

“Tomorrow,” Alicia says. “I promised Morgan we’d stay one more night, in case we change our minds.”

 

“You won’t change your mind.”

 

Alicia hums. “I know. But it’s the least we can do before we take off. So one more night, then we’ll head out. And like I told Luciana, if you’re ever passing through Oregon –”

 

“We’ll find you,” Victor promises. He winks the motions for Alicia to follow him back up to the front of the store. Everyone’s inside, watching Wendell perform card tricks, except Al and June are still outside.

 

“Alicia –” Morgan begins, but Alicia holds her hand up.

 

“Hang on,” she mutters. She throws the doors open and steps out into the parking lot, spotting Al and June in front of the SWAT van. “Hey!” Alicia calls. “What’s going on?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts/questions/concerns in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


	22. 22

Everyone else returns to the gas station, allowing Al a moment alone with June. Al leans back against the front of the van and almost decides to crack a joke about how her shoulder’s all wet from the crying June’s been doing, but she’s too afraid it’ll just make June start crying once more. June’s still dabbing at her eyes as it is.

 

“So I was right,” June says.

 

“About what?”

 

“Alicia wanting to leave.”

 

Al sighs heavily, hooks her thumbs through the belt loops of her pants, and nods. “I didn’t know it yet,” Al says. “I found out after we talked.”

 

“I figured,” June says. “You would’ve said something if you’d known.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Can I ask you something?”

 

Al balks at the serious look on June’s face but says, “Yeah. Sure.”

 

“Are you going because you want to or because you feel like you have to?”

 

“I want to,” Al says immediately. “You said you’d understand if we left.”

 

“I also said I wouldn’t like it.”

 

Al smiles. “Yeah, I know. But if you ever detour through Oregon, stop by.”

 

“Al,” June sighs. June shakes her head and struggles to find the right words. “I don’t even know what to say,” June finally admits.

 

“I know,” Al says softly. “But I’ll make sure we get a good radio installed, in case you guys are ever in the area. And you know I’ll take every precaution. Alicia and I are going to be okay. Better than okay.”

 

June presses her lips together, holding back the tears that shine in her eyes once more, and she nods. Her voice is shriller than usual, but she manages to say, “You know, you’re the best friend I’ve got out here. Honestly, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had, if you don’t count John. I just can’t imagine not having you around.”

 

“I know,” Al says. “But it –”

 

The gas station door bangs against the side of the station, and Alicia steps into the lot, shouting, “Hey! What’s going on?”

 

Al’s eyebrows pull together as she twists around to face Alicia. “What’s the problem?” Al questions. Whatever that look on Alicia’s face means, Al doesn’t like it.

 

“What’s going on?” Alicia repeats once she’s reached them. She stands possessively at Al’s side, grasping onto her arm just above the bruise the dead left her. Al winces at the pressure, and only then does Alicia loosen her hold.

 

“We’re talking,” Al says. “I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to do that.”

 

Alicia rolls her eyes. “That isn’t what I mean.”

 

“Then what do you mean?” Al challenges.

 

“Al,” June interrupts. “It’s fine.” Without knowing it, June diffuses the situation, keeps it from escalating into an argument. But Alicia’s eyes land on June.

 

“Were you trying to talk her into staying?” Alicia asks.

 

“What?” June says.

 

“Were you trying to convince Al to get me to stay?”

 

“Alicia,” Al says in disbelief. “She’s not trying to get us to stay.”

 

Alicia falters. “Wait – you’re not?”

 

June offers a small smile and shakes her head. “I’m just taking care of my tearful goodbyes now so I don’t have to do it in front of everyone tomorrow.”

 

“Well now I just feel like a jerk,” Alicia mutters.

 

Al cracks a smile and knocks her shoulder into Alicia’s. “Then stop being a jerk, babe.”

 

“Sorry,” Alicia says. She slides her hand down Al’s arm, locks their fingers together then covers the back of Al’s hand with her other one.

 

June waves it off and says, “Oregon, huh?”

 

“Maybe,” Alicia says. “Unless I hate it.”

 

“I still think we should try being potato farmers,” Al says.

 

“Oh, honey,” June laughs, “please, don’t.”

 

“What’s so bad about wanting to be a potato farmer?” Al asks defensively as June and Alicia have a good laugh.

 

“Potato famine?” June guesses.

 

“That isn’t so bad when you compare it to the dead walking,” Al points out. A knocking sound on the window of the gas station captures their attention. It’s Morgan, tapping his stick against the window from the inside, and when they all look, he waves for them to go inside. They don’t argue, merely walking back to the gas station and joining the rest of the group, though Alicia doesn’t release her hold on Al’s hand.

 

“Something wrong?” Al questions, shutting the door behind them.

 

“Yes and no,” Morgan answers. June drifts over to stand by John, and Alicia seems to relax a bit. “I have a…proposition.”

 

“Proposition?” Alicia says.

 

“Look, I don’t want you guys to go,” Morgan says. “You’ve made your problems clear, and you think the best solution is to run. I’ve taken your words to heart. You made some very good points, Alicia, so I’m hoping if I agree to…dial back our commitment to help others for a while, you’ll agree to stay.”

 

Al watches Alicia, and Alicia blinks. “Dial back?” Alicia says.

 

Morgan smiles and leans into his stick. “Yes. No more flying planes over mountains to help people. No more drastic measures.”

 

Alicia exhales heavily and shakes her head. “It’s a little late for this proposition, Morgan.”

 

“You haven’t left yet,” Morgan replies. “There’s still time to reconsider.”

 

“I’ll think about it,” Alicia says, but Al is 99 percent sure she’s lying. Alicia’s mind is set. Alicia’s answer is enough for Morgan; he nods and backs off, changes gears. He gives everyone something to do before they head out, and Al’s job is to go collect the trip wires, cans, and stakes that made up their useless perimeter. She gets it all packed into the van and realizes they haven’t discussed the fact that they’re taking the van with them when they leave. Well, Morgan thinks Alicia’s considering changing her mind, so Al supposes that detail can wait a little longer.

 

Al goes back inside, joining Victor, Alicia, and Luciana at the counter. There’s a map spread out, and Victor’s marking it with red ink, tracing a path from their current location to where Al assumes Daniel Salazar’s warehouse is located.

 

“It’s maybe a two day trip, if we take our time,” Victor informs.

 

“Do we have enough fuel for that?” Luciana asks.

 

Victor looks from Luciana to Alicia to Al then says, “The truck will be running on fumes after we move today. The van has more than enough to take us to Daniel’s, but I have a feeling that isn’t much of an option.”

 

“Add that to our list,” Luciana tells Alicia. “When we go to find maps tomorrow, look for diesel.”

 

Alicia nods. She opens her mouth as if she’s going to speak, but then she snaps her jaw shut. Al thinks she has an idea of what Alicia wanted to say, because Al’s wondering the same thing herself. “So,” Al says, “you guys are really going to go with the Daniel plan?”

 

“With or without you,” Victor confirms. “How else are we going to get the factory back?”

 

“You aren’t,” Alicia says. “How do you think going to Daniel is going to help? He probably still wants to shoot you in the face.”

 

“He has the supplies we need to retake the factory,” Victor says.

 

“And how are you going to use those supplies to do that?” Al questions.

 

“I haven’t worked that part out yet,” Victor admits. “I don’t know everything Daniel has at his disposal.” Victor pauses. “And whatever plan we use to retake the factory loses the skillsets you two bring to the table, since you want to go become farmers way out west.”

 

“I’m ready to settle,” Alicia murmurs. “Aren’t you?”

 

“Yes,” Victor agrees. “In our factory.”

 

“Well, come get us if that works out for you,” Al says, clapping Victor on the shoulder.

 

John’s entrance interrupts them, as John announces, “Morgan’s ready to move out once everyone’s done.”

 

“He has a place in mind?” Alicia asks.

 

John nods. “He said it isn’t too far. We shouldn’t even have to stop to refuel.”

 

“Alright,” Victor says. He folds up the map and tucks it inside his breast pocket with the marker. “Tell Morgan we’re ready to go.”

 

They split evenly between the van and the truck. Victor drives the truck with Morgan, Sarah, Wendell, and Charlie in the back, and Al takes the van with Alicia, Luciana, John, and June. Of course, Morgan and John keep a conversation going on the walkie, but all Al has to do is follow after the truck to wherever Morgan’s leading them. They drive on this one empty two-lane road for a long time, with nothing to see except grass. There’s no sign of the living, and there’s very little sign of the dead. At least until Victor plows into one, sending it over the top of the truck and right back into the windshield of the van. Al curses, and everyone jumps as the dead tumbles off the hood and onto the road. Victor’s laughter comes through the walkie as Al clears the blood and guts from the windshield.

 

“That was a good one,” Victor chuckles.

 

“You always say it’s a good one,” John replies.

 

“They’re always good,” Victor says.

 

“You nearly gave us all a heart attack.”

 

Victor laughs again. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

 

“Ask him how far we are,” Al calls over her shoulder. “Please.”

 

John nods. “Al wants to know how far out we are.”

 

There’s a pause, likely while Victor consults with Morgan. “Not far,” Victor answers.

 

“There’s nothing out here,” Al grumbles.

 

“Al says there’s nothing out here,” John says into the walkie.

 

Al hisses, “You weren’t supposed to say that!”

 

“I wasn’t supposed to say that,” John says, grinning as Victor’s laughter comes through again.

 

“At the next intersection, take a left,” Morgan says as Victor continues to laugh in the background. They make the turn, head down another empty road for a long while, but this time, it’s in silence. The radio conversation has died out. Alicia leans back in the passenger’s seat, feet up on the dash even though Al has told her multiple times that it’s safer to keep her legs down. June links her arm through John’s, rests her head on his shoulder, and Luciana’s eyes are closed, but no one knows if she’s actually asleep or not.

 

“Please tell me he’s not taking us there,” Al says.

 

“What?” Alicia says. Al points to the only place on this road. It’s two buildings, and one’s a barn. “It’s a farm,” Alicia says. “So what?”

 

Al glances over at her. “What do you think he’s doing?” she mutters.

 

“If you’re thinking he chose this place for us all to settle down at –” Alicia says.

 

“That’s exactly what I’m thinking,” Al cuts in. “Besides, what if someone’s still living there?”

 

“Then we have a problem,” Alicia says. “Apart from Morgan’s attempts to stop us from leaving.”

 

“That’s the place?” John questions from the back, startling both Al and Alicia.

 

“I guess so,” Al answers. “That’s where Victor’s turning.”

 

“What is Morgan doing?” John wonders aloud. “We don’t even know if this place is inhabited.”

 

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Al says. “But I don’t know. Let Morgan do his thing, I guess.”

 

They pull up outside of the barn, and Al and Alicia linger in the van as John, June, and Luciana exit and meet up with the others. Alicia and Al just stare at each other for a long moment before they leave the van, too. Morgan’s already coming up with a plan by the time Al and Alicia join the group.

 

“Sarah and Wendell,” Morgan says, “explore the property. Make sure there are no surprises. John, June, Al, and Charlie, make sure the barn is clear. Everyone else, with me. We’ll clear the house then regroup out front.”

 

Alicia squeezes Al’s hand quickly then follows after Morgan, Victor, and Luciana. Al leads the way to the barn, trench spike clutched in one hand, and she doesn’t wait to kick the door in, braced for an attack. But nothing comes out of the barn, and when Al pokes her head inside, she doesn’t see anything. She raps the trench spike against the wood and waits, but nothing emerges or makes a sound.

 

“Seems empty,” Al informs.

 

“Okay,” John says. “Let’s do a thorough sweep. Be careful.”

 

“Stay by me,” June says to Charlie.

 

Al goes in first, eyes warily scanning the barn, but there’s no sign of life – or lack thereof – in the barn. Once they’re positive the barn is clear, Al drops down onto a stack of hay and sighs, tucking the trench spike into her jacket pocket. Charlie and June take a seat next to her, and John stands in the center of the barn, hands on his hips.

 

“So we’re spending the night on a farm, huh?” John says. He smiles at Charlie and adds, “That should be fun.”

 

“Where are all the animals?” Charlie questions.

 

“Probably long gone,” Al mutters. Al ignores June when she knocks her fist into her leg. “There’d be animals if someone was still here,” Al points out.

 

“It’s a nice place, though,” June comments. “It’s isolated. We could grow our own food here.”

 

Al blinks. “We’ve only seen the inside of the barn so far, June. I’d wait until we’ve had a tour of the house before deciding to stay.”

 

“Would you?” June asks. “Stay?”

 

Al cracks a smile. “No,” she says. “I’m kind of set on Oregon.”

 

“I think it’s a good idea,” John says, even though it earns him a glare from June. “What?” he defends. “You and Alicia are more than capable of taking care of yourself. And I can understand wanting some space from all of us.” John grins. “As long as you two let us crash there if we come around, I don’t see a problem.”

 

“Same to you,” Al replies. “If you find a way to take the factory back.”

 

John waves his hand. “Even if we don’t, we’ll find another place to make our own.”

 

Al nods, smiles. “I know.”

 

“You and Alicia really have to go?” Charlie asks quietly.

 

“Yeah, kid,” Al says. “Someday you’ll understand why.”

 

The barn door is flung open, startling all four of them, but it’s just Sarah and Wendell. “There’s nothing out here,” Sarah says. “Isn’t that right, Wendell?”

 

“Nothing,” Wendell confirms. “Looks like this place is totally abandoned.”

 

“We should head in,” John says. “Meet up with Morgan. Figure out what’s going on.”

 

They all walk out of the barn in time to see Alicia and Victor dragging two bodies out the front door by the legs. They both have gaping holes in their heads, and the bodies are badly decayed. The wounds are too large to have been made by Alicia’s gun barrel, and Al thinks they almost look like the work of shotgun blasts. Suicides? From a long time ago?

 

“Any problems?” Al asks once Alicia and Victor have dropped the bodies in the field across the road.

 

“No,” Alicia says. “We found these two already dead. Nothing else.”

 

Al nods. She glances around and lowers her voice to say, “We’re still taking off tomorrow no matter what, right?”

 

Alicia smiles. “ _Yes_. I can’t wait to start our life as Oregon farmers. We spend the night here, we find some maps in the morning, and we go.” Alicia’s smile widens, and she leans in to whisper, “And I think we’re going to get a room to ourselves tonight.”

 

Al’s eyebrows raise. “We better get in there, then. Claim it.”

 

Alicia’s smile turns into a grin. “You’re thinking what I’m thinking?”

 

“If you’re thinking all our friends are going to be happy to see us leave tomorrow because of what they’re going to hear tonight, then yes, we’re thinking the same thing.”

 

“Man, that’s not right,” Victor complains. Alicia’s face flushes, but Al busts out laughing at the look on Victor’s face.

 

“Sorry, Vic,” Al says. “Didn’t see you there.”

 

“Maybe we should split you two up for the night,” Victor says. “I don’t see how it’s fair that you guys get to get some. Do you know how long it’s been for me?”

 

“God, Victor, stop,” Alicia says. “I don’t want to know.”

 

“There’s someone out there for you,” Al tells Victor. She grasps onto Alicia’s shoulder and adds, “They’ll just find you when you least expect it.”

 

“Oh, get out of here,” Victor grumbles. “Go take the room that’ll be farthest away from mine. In fact, make sure you get the room next to John and June. Give them a taste of their own medicine.”

 

“When you put it like that, you make it weird,” Al says.

 

“We’re talking about the loud sex you two are planning on having tonight,” Victor points out. “It’s already plenty weird.”

 

Alicia rolls her eyes and grabs onto Al’s elbow. “Come on,” Alicia says. “Let’s go get a room.” They’re climbing up the steps to the porch when Alicia comments, “You know, this is actually a really nice place. If we could find something like this in Oregon, I’d be happy.”

 

Al steps inside, eyes scanning the living room and kitchen. “It’s not really my style,” she admits. “Kind of cramped.”

 

“The bedrooms are spacious, though. Ooh, and there are granite countertops in the kitchen.”

 

Al grins at Alicia’s excitement over granite, of all things, and doesn’t resist when Alicia takes her hand and pulls her into the kitchen, pointing out the things that work for her – the granite and the cabinets and the floors – and the things that don’t, like the choice in appliances. Like a dishwasher really matters right now. But Al goes along with it, like they’re a normal couple at a normal open house.

 

“You know,” Alicia’s saying as Al follows behind her, “if we knocked out this wall, we’d have a lot more space here.”

 

“Do you know how to knock down a wall without causing the entire house to collapse?” Al asks.

 

Alicia snorts. “Hell no! But I bet John and Victor could figure it out.”

 

“Are we going to invite John and Victor to our place in Oregon so they can knock down walls?”

 

“No,” Alicia says, “obviously not _just_ to knock down walls and do maintenance. They can stay the night. Visit. Maybe I’ll even cook them dinner.”

 

Al laughs. “I can be pretty handy sometimes, but I’m not willing to risk the integrity of the entire structure.”

 

“That can work,” Alicia says. “You fix shit when it breaks, and I’ll, like, do the other stuff.”

 

“You’ve never owned a house.”

 

“I was a teenager when the outbreak started,” Alicia reminds, jabbing Al in the stomach. “Cut me some slack. C’mon, let’s see the upstairs.”

 

Al lets Alicia pull her upstairs by the hand and throws around a few critiques of her own about the place. “That giant bloodstain on the bathroom wall’s not really doing it for me,” Al says, and Alicia doubles over with laughter, clutching onto Al’s shoulder to keep herself from falling.

 

“We should let the realtor know,” Alicia jokes. “Maybe they’ll knock a few grand off the price.”

 

They head into the master bedroom at the far end of the hall, and Al nods her approval. “I like the windows,” she observes. “It could use a paint job, though. Yellow’s not really my color.”

 

“I kind of like it,” Alicia muses. She flings herself onto the bed face first and lies spread eagle, moaning, “This _mattress_. Best mattress I’ve been on since my own. I could fall asleep right now.”

 

“Move over,” Al says, patting Alicia’s leg. Alicia rolls to one side so Al can lower herself onto the other side of the bed.

 

“Alicia,” Al says.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“This is a fucking waterbed.”

 

“A _waterbed_. How fancy,” Alicia says, rolling to face Al. Alicia waggles her eyebrows and whispers, “This room’s ours for tonight.”

 

“Great,” Al says. “Don’t forget to tell Victor to take the room on the opposite end of the hall.”

 

Alicia laughs. “That’s Victor’s problem.”

 

Their hands rest in the space between them, and Al’s eyes drop to the bandages wound around Alicia’s wrists. “You should have June check your wrists one last time,” Al says. She reaches over, runs her thumb along Alicia’s lower lip. “Your lip’s looking better.”

 

“So is your face, actually,” Alicia says. “A lot less swollen. You’re almost starting to look normal.”

 

“Well, thanks,” Al says, flashing a quick smile.

 

“You should have June look at you one last time, too,” Alicia says. “Just in case, you know. I’m still not entirely sure I stitched your neck right.”

 

“My neck is fine,” Al assures her. “But we can both check in with June later.”

 

Alicia nods and lets her eyes close. “We’re sleeping here tonight,” Alicia murmurs. “I don’t care who I have to kill to make that happen.”

 

Al laughs, but before she gets a chance to reply, Victor shouts from downstairs, “Hey, lovebirds! There’s still work to be done down here!”

 

“We should go,” Al says.

 

The rest of the day after that flies by, probably because it’s their last full day with their friends. They take steps to secure the house, even though they’re all convinced they’re completely isolated from any signs of life or even the dead. Just in case. They’ve been wrong before. Al joins June and John in the kitchen to prepare dinner, though it’s nothing fancy. The table in the dining room only seats six, so Al and Alicia eat at the kitchen counter across from Luciana and Charlie.

 

“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” Luciana asks once they’re finishing dinner. “I found a bookstore in the nearest town.”

 

“We’re going early,” Alicia says. “That bookstore is nearly fifteen miles away.”

 

“How early is early?” Charlie presses.

 

“Like five, kid,” Al says. “So if you’re coming with, make sure you’re up.”

 

“Wake me up,” Charlie tells Alicia. “Don’t leave me behind.”

 

“We won’t,” Alicia promises.

 

“Make sure I’m up, too,” Luciana says with a smile. “I might not be up, either.”

 

“I’ll make sure we’re all up,” Al says.

 

“What time are you and Alicia leaving?” Charlie asks quietly.

 

Al hesitates. “Hopefully no later than nine. Oregon’s over a day’s drive away, even if we drive nonstop. I want to get going as soon as possible.”

 

Everyone agrees, but both Luciana and Charlie’s moods significantly diminish. They clean up from dinner, since they ate off actual plates with silverware – although they’re still eating canned goods. John gets to work on finding something to keep them entertained until night falls, and he stumbles on a closet in the basement that holds a wide selection of board games. John comes back up the stairs with stacks of board games in his arms and drops them on the coffee table in the living room.

 

“Take your pick,” he says.

 

They spread out across the floor, splitting five and five, and they cycle through board games until the sun sets. They only stop because Wendell kicks them out of the living room, since he volunteers to spend the night on one of the couches. Sarah’s already passed out on the other one, hat pulled down over her eyes, snoring loudly.

 

“You need to give us a head start,” Victor tells Al and Alicia. “Let us all fall asleep before you go up there.”

 

“Oh, stop it!” Alicia laughs.

 

“You laugh, but I’m not kidding.”

 

“We can wait another night,” Al says.

 

“Al,” Alicia whines.

 

“Everyone’s here,” Al says. “We’ll spare them.”

 

Al touches her palm to Alicia’s cheek as Alicia rolls her eyes and complains under her breath, but Alicia leans into Al’s touch nonetheless. They say goodnight as Victor heads up with Charlie and Luciana on his tail. Alicia and Al clean up the board games, push them out of the way, then join June and John at the dining room table. John smiles and lifts the hat from his head, running his fingers wearily through his hair. June holds onto his other hand, both their hands resting on the table between them, and Alicia reaches for Al’s hand the moment they’re seated as well.

 

“You mind taking one last look at us?” Al asks.

 

“Of course not,” June says. She releases John’s hand and gets to her feet.

 

“I’m gonna head up, darling,” John says. He kisses June on the top of the head and tips his hat to Al and Alicia. “And I’ll see you two in the morning. Don’t take off without saying a proper goodbye.”

 

“Never,” Al says.

 

“I’ll be up when I’m done,” June promises before John walks away.

 

“Take your time,” he replies. “And be quiet when you walk through the living room. Wendell and Sarah are already asleep.”

 

“They could sleep through the end of the world if they wanted to,” June says.

 

“You might have a point.”

 

Al and Alicia bid John goodnight as June unwinds the bandages from around Alicia’s wrists. “You’re healing nicely,” June says. “You don’t really need more bandages, but you might want them just in case. And your lip looks good, too.”

 

“Thanks, June.”

 

June nods and turns her attention to Al. “Your neck still looks good,” June says, tilting Al’s head to the side to get a better look. “I think this is as good as it’s going to get, though. You’ll be stuck with this scar. Your hand will get better with time.” June prods at Al’s nose, and it doesn’t cause her nearly as much pain as it had before. “The swelling’s gone way down, which is a good sign. The cut in your face sealed itself, but I’m afraid of what kind of scar it’s going to leave.” June sighs, puts her hands on her hips, and declares, “You’re both as good as you’re gonna get for now. If you’re lucky, the scars will fade some, but you shouldn’t have to worry about infection.”

 

Al rolls her sleeve and shows the bruise from the dead biting down on her jacket to June, but June waves it off with _it’s just a bruise_.

 

“Thanks, June,” Al says. “For everything. Especially since the plane crash. All I’ve been doing is collecting injuries.”

 

“Well, hopefully that’s over now,” June says softly. She grasps onto Al’s shoulder and offers her a small smile. “Take care of yourselves.”

 

“We will,” Alicia says.

 

June points a finger at Al and adds, “And no more flying planes, got it?”

 

Al grins and crosses her heart. “Got it.”

 

June turns that finger on Alicia. “Keep her safe.”

 

Alicia smiles. “You got it.”

 

June lowers her finger. “Thank you. Goodnight. See you in the morning.” June pauses. “And my room’s right next to yours, so keep it down tonight.”

 

“Oh my God,” Alicia says, but Al just laughs and shakes her head.

 

“Go to bed,” Al calls after June.

 

“You make one comment in front of Victor, and suddenly everyone’s talking about our sex life,” Alicia mutters.

 

“This is what you wanted,” Al teases. “You wanted everyone to know about us.”

 

“Shut up,” Alicia says, fighting back a smile.

 

“Now they make jokes about us, the way we always have about John and June.”

 

“It’s just one more night.”

 

Al’s expression turns solemn, and she nods. “You’re right.” Al stands, groaning, and she holds her hand out to Alicia. “Come on. We’ve got an early morning and a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending is in sight, my friends. After this chapter, I've got two more plus an epilogue for you. Again, I'd just like to thank you all so much for sticking with me, and I hope these last few chapters in particular will be satisfactory.
> 
> Thank you all so much. I'd love to hear your thoughts/questions/concerns in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


	23. 23

Alicia takes Al’s hand and follows Al upstairs to the master bedroom. Alicia kicks her shoes off, strips down to her underwear and a tank top, and claims her side of the bed. She burrows under the sheets, which actually smell clean. Like laundry detergent, which hopefully means no one else has slept in this bed. Alicia watches as Al folds the leather jacket on the chair in the corner of the room with her pants and the button down. Alicia shamelessly rakes her eyes down Al’s body, from toned arms to the way her tank top hugs her body to long legs.

 

Al takes up the other side of the waterbed, letting the sheets lie at her waist. She locks her fingers together behind her head then turns her head toward Alicia to see that Alicia’s already staring at her.

 

“What’s up?” Al asks.

 

“I was just thinking,” Alicia says.

 

“Thinking about what?”

 

“The house collapse.”

 

Alicia’s eyes search Al’s face for any change in her expression, but Al’s gotten good at concealing her emotions. And she’s been in so much physical pain lately that Alicia’s started to assume any kind of pain she sees reflected in Al’s face is due to injury. But nothing changes in Al’s expression.

 

“What about it?” Al asks gently.

 

“We all know people died,” Alicia says. “I drove the truck into the other side. I caused those deaths.”

 

“You can’t blame yourself for that,” Al says. “You didn’t know.”

 

“Not knowing isn’t a good excuse.”

 

Al exhales heavily. “People die. It’s a frequent occurrence now. We’ve all done things we aren’t proud of, Alicia. We learn how to live with them.”

 

“Yeah?” Alicia says. “What have you done?”

 

“Sorry?”

 

Alicia shifts around, shoving the sheets down so just her lower half is covered, too, and she tucks her hands beneath her face. “What have you done?” Alicia repeats. “Give me an example of something awful you’ve done.”

 

“Recently?”

 

Alicia manages a one shouldered shrug. “Anything.”

 

“That’s going to make you feel better?” Al questions. “If I tell you something terrible that I’ve done?”

 

“It’ll make me feel like I’m not the only person with things to regret.”

 

“Okay,” Al breathes, pushing a hand into her hair and holding it there. “Let me think.”

 

“You know,” Alicia says softly, “I’ll still love you no matter what you did.”

 

Al smiles, lets her eyelids flutter shut, and rubs at her jaw. “I know. There’s just so many to choose from,” she says wryly. Alicia reaches over for Al’s hand, and Al doesn’t hesitate to take Alicia’s and bring it to her lips, pressing a quick kiss to the back of Alicia’s hand. Alicia holds on tight as Al continues to think.

 

“If you don’t want to –”

 

Al shushes her. “There was this one time,” she says, keeping her voice low because she can hear John’s snoring through the walls, which means they can probably hear them just as easily. “I’d just finished an interview with a guy. A big guy, right? He’s, like, six-foot-six with huge muscles, and he’s driving this giant armored tank. He was nice enough, but something felt off about him. But whatever, I finish the interview, and I send him on his way. He lingered, though, outside of my van, and he reached for his waistband.

 

“All I saw was a flash of black, right? At the time, I had a handgun on me before I ditched it for the rifle, so I grabbed that right off the shelf and shot him in the chest without thinking.” Al pauses, exhaling shakily, and she stares up at the ceiling rather than at Alicia. Alicia holds onto her hand tighter. “The thing that hits the ground is – it was a walkie. He was going to radio someone. I shot first, and he didn’t even have a gun on him. I checked. I checked three times, actually, and he wasn’t even armed.” Al’s voice drops so low, it’s barely audible. “I killed him over a radio, because I was afraid he was going to kill me, based on some of the things he told me in his interview.”

 

“Al –”

 

“You’re going to say it’s not my fault,” Al says. “That I made a judgment call. But that’s exactly what you did back at the mansion. You made a judgment call, and it probably killed some people. That guy – his name was Hank – didn’t deserve to die, but I killed him out of fear. The people in the mansion…they were at least a little more deserving. And that’s just one incident.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Did that make you feel better?” Al asks.

 

“No,” Alicia says. “But now I know with absolute certainty that you understand.”

 

Al tugs on Alicia’s hand, and Alicia scoots herself toward the middle of the bed, resting her head on Al’s chest and tangling their legs together. Al’s arm wraps around her, and Alicia sighs in contentment.

 

“We’re gonna be okay, right?” Alicia murmurs. “On our own. We’re not going to fall apart or start hating each other or –”

 

“Alicia,” Al cuts in, but her voice is gentle. “I’m going to love you until the day I finally stop cheating death, which will hopefully be in a long time from now. We aren’t going to fall apart.”

 

Alicia exhales shakily and knots her hand in Al’s tank top over her stomach. “Okay,” Alicia says. “I love you, too.”

 

Al hums and strokes her fingers through Alicia’s hair. “Try to sleep, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Alicia mumbles. She can’t sleep, though. Al falls asleep before she does, and Alicia lies deathly still, afraid any movement from her will wake Al, and they have to be up early. Alicia spends most of the night lying awake, at least until Al stirs around three in the morning. Alicia pulls back, watches the confusion dance across Al’s face.

 

“You’re up?” Al grunts.

 

“Can’t sleep. Why are you up?”

 

“I need to fucking pee,” Al grumbles. “The master bathroom doesn’t have a giant bloodstain on the wall, does it?”

 

“No, that’s the one out in the hall.”

 

“Good.”

 

Alicia waits patiently for Al to return. Al exhales heavily as she lowers herself back down onto her back and sleepily accepts Alicia back into her arms.

 

“Do you want me to stay up with you?” Al mumbles.

 

“You can’t stay up,” Alicia says, lips against Al’s neck, right near where she’d been shot. Alicia combs her fingers through Al’s hair. “We have to be up early, and you have to drive.”

 

“Good point.”

 

Alicia chuckles. Her hand stills in Al’s hair, but Alicia leaves her hand there. “You couldn’t stay up if you wanted to,” Alicia teases. Alicia lifts her head, presses her lips to Al’s jaw, and murmurs, “Go back to sleep, baby.”

 

Al makes a small sound of acknowledgment in the back of her throat, already half back to sleep, and Alicia rests her head on Al’s chest again. She listens to the strong thud of Al’s heart, feels her chest rise and fall steadily, and Alicia closes her eyes and hopes for the best. She gets lucky, and Alicia’s pulled from her slumber at five in the morning.

 

“C’mon,” Al says, shaking Alicia’s shoulder again. “You’ve got to get up.”

 

“I don’t want to,” Alicia complains, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes and rolling onto her back.

 

“Well, tough shit, Leesh. I don’t really want to be awake right now, either,” Al laughs. “But we’re the ones leaving, so let’s go get our maps and get on the road.”

 

“Five more minutes,” Alicia bargains.

 

“No,” Al says. “Five more seconds then I drag you out of bed by the ankles.”

 

“Mean,” Alicia pouts, but she forces herself to sit up and swings her legs off the edge of the bed.

 

“There you go,” Al says with a grin. Alicia notices Al’s already dressed, and her hair’s been neatly fixed, though she could still use a haircut. Alicia snags Al’s wrist before she can leave and pulls Al toward her. Alicia puckers her lips and waits for Al to bend over and kiss her. When she does, Alicia hooks her hand around the back of Al’s neck and holds her there, deepens the kiss until Al hums and says against Alicia’s lips, “I have to go wake Luciana and Charlie so we can go. Get dressed.” Al pats Alicia on the thighs and breaks her hold on her neck, backing away.

 

“I’m pouting,” Alicia calls after her.

 

Al laughs quietly and replies, “I’m sure you’ll forgive me.”

 

Alicia gets up, groaning, and she puts her clothes on. She locates her gun barrel, hooks it on her belt, and leaves the master bedroom, yawning. Luciana and Charlie stumble out of the room they shared with Victor, looking as exhausted as Alicia feels, but at least Al’s wide awake and rather chipper.

 

“Come on,” Al urges. “You can nap on the way there.”

 

“Is everyone armed?” Alicia asks, rubbing her eyes as she descends the stairs. Luciana, Charlie, and Al all say that, yes, they are armed, and they all take care to slip out the front quietly so they don’t wake Wendell or Sarah. Sarah’s snoring is so loud, they probably could’ve stampeded through there without waking them, but Alicia still takes care to shut the door quietly behind them.

 

Al takes the map from Luciana and figures out the best route to the bookstore in the nearest town while Luciana and Charlie sprawl out in the back of the van. Alicia’s barely keeping her eyes open in the passenger’s seat. The ride is fairly quiet, since Luciana and Charlie go back to sleep, and Alicia passes the time by staring at Al.

 

“How are you not tired?” Alicia asks.

 

“I slept really well, actually,” Al answers, flashing Alicia a smile. “That waterbed worked miracles.”

 

“Oh, so it was just the waterbed?”

 

“I mean, you were there,” Al says. “That was okay, too.”

 

“Okay?”

 

Al laughs. “Calm down, Alicia. I slept well because you were there.”

 

“Thank you,” Alicia says. “You could’ve led with that.”

 

“But that’s no fun. Help me keep an eye out for the store, okay?”

 

They spot it easily, even though it’s fairly small and tucked in a strip mall between five other stores. The van rolls into the parking lot, and Al parks right outside the opening, scanning their surroundings for any sign of the dead. The lot’s empty, though, and the streets were nearly empty as well. Already Al can see a few dead roaming inside the bookstore.

 

“Wake them,” Alicia tells Al. “I’ll take care of the dead.”

 

“Be careful,” Al warns.

 

“I’m always careful.”

 

“Don’t lie to me, Alicia Clark,” Al says.

 

“Fine,” Alicia mutters. “I’ll be careful _this_ time. I promise.”

 

Al throws her a wink. “Thank you.”

 

Alicia leaves the van while Al climbs into the back and wakes Luciana and Charlie. Alicia tries the door, and it opens easily, drawing the attention of the four dead hanging around in there. Alicia dispatches them quickly and locates the maps before Al, Luciana, and Charlie have even joined her in the store. She hooks the barrel back on her belt and goes down the line, grabbing a map for each of the fifty states. At least it’s a starting point.

 

“Got it,” Alicia announces when Al steps in with Luciana and Charlie flanking her.

 

“Already?” Al questions.

 

“One of each state,” Alicia confirms, holding the thick stack of maps out toward Al.

 

“That was a fast trip,” Charlie says flatly. “I could’ve stayed in bed.”

 

“I’m not done yet,” Al assures her.

 

“Wait, we’re not done?” Alicia asks. “What else do we need?”

 

“We’re surrounded by books, Alicia,” Al says as if Alicia hasn’t noticed. “And I have a giant van parked outside. I need something to do on the ride to Oregon. And once we get there. You should think about finding something, too.”

 

Alicia sighs and nods in agreement, but first, she carries the maps out to the van and stores them carefully. She heads back into the store to find Luciana and Charlie trying to help Al pick out books that sound interesting, but they’re having a hard time pulling her away from the books about film.

 

“Al, what about this one?” Charlie asks, holding up a novel from the store’s _Our Favorites_ shelf.

 

“What’s it about?” Al asks.

 

Charlie reads the back cover. “Murder mystery with a side of romance.”

 

Al makes a face, but Alicia says, “I’ll take that one.”

 

Charlie grins and adds it to the growing stack on the counter by the cash register. Luciana wanders to the back where the cookbooks are and flips through the cookbooks.

 

“Hey,” Luciana calls. “This one’s all about potatoes.”

 

“It’s a sign,” Al jokes. “Idaho, here we come.”

 

“We are _not_ going to Idaho,” Alicia laughs.

 

“We are if Oregon doesn’t work out,” Al says. “Picture it: Althea Szewczek-Przygocki, potato farmer.”

 

“I think potato farming sounds nice,” Luciana says. She hands the potato based cookbook to Al, and they exchange grins while Alicia puts her face in her hands. Charlie takes Luciana’s place in front of the cookbooks and finds a few about simple, vegetable based recipes that they might be able to replicate if they ever get their garden at the factory back.

 

“You could come, you know,” Alicia says suddenly.

 

Luciana’s smile is sad. “You know why I can’t do that, Alicia.”

 

Alicia nods. “I figured I’d try anyway.”

 

Luciana nods. Alicia checks the time, but Al doesn’t seem to be in the rush she was in last night. She’s wandering the aisles, eyes skimming over covers. Every once in a while, she picks a book up and glances at the back cover or inside jacket, but she puts almost every single one back.

 

“Hey,” Luciana says, grabbing a book off the shelf in the kids section. “Have you read this?”

 

Alicia takes the book from her, eyes studying the cover. _The Little Prince_. “Yeah,” Alicia says. “But I didn’t read it in English.”

 

“You know French?” Luciana asks.

 

Alicia laughs. “No, not really. Not anymore. I took French in high school, and we read it.” She hands the book back to Luciana. “You should take that,” she suggests. “Charlie might like it. And if you ever find any other kids…” Alicia trails off, but Luciana’s eyes twinkle when she smiles and clutches the book to her chest.

 

“Hey, Leesh,” Al calls from somewhere near the back. “I found some books about farming.”

 

“Take them,” Alicia says. “We should get moving,” she adds. “We still need to look for diesel.”

 

“We passed a gas station on the way in,” Luciana replies.

 

“With our luck, it’s empty,” Alicia says. “And we’ll have to siphon it out of another vehicle.”

 

“You let me worry about that,” Al says, dropping the farming books onto the counter with the other books. “Can you give me a hand with these?”

 

Alicia nods and helps Al carry the books out to the van. They take a moment to separate out the books they’re going to take from the books Luciana and Charlie will be taking back.

 

“You’re sure about this, right?” Alicia asks.

 

“About what?” Al says. She straightens out quickly and only just narrowly avoids banging her head on the ceiling of the van.

 

“Leaving.”

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Al insists. “Yes, I am sure. And you’re sure, too. There’s no reason to doubt yourself, Alicia.”

 

“I just – Morgan’s willing to change to keep us here,” Alicia mutters.

 

“No,” Al says, startling Alicia. “He says that now, and I’m sure he’ll mean it. For the first couple months, at the most. And then, we’ll be back to flying planes over mountains and nearly killing ourselves to save people that don’t want us to help them. So we’re going, and we’ll hope our friends are smart enough to keep themselves alive.”

 

A slow smile spreads on Alicia’s face. “They share one collective brain cell,” she whispers, and they both bust out laughing before Alicia has the chance to add, “I’m kidding! Don’t tell them I said that!”

 

“No, that’s pretty accurate,” Al says. “They share one, and you and I share the other.”

 

Alicia rolls her eyes, but she smiles when Al presses her lips against her temple and maneuvers around her. “Where do you think you’re going?” Alicia questions, grabbing Al’s wrist and tugging her back.

 

“I was going to get Luci and Charlie so we can go,” Al says, allowing Alicia to pull her farther back into the van. Alicia trails her fingertips along Al’s jaw, careful to avoid the healing wound in her cheek. Though it’s unlikely to split again at this point, there are still thin strips of medical tape holding it together. “You’re staring,” Al says.

 

Alicia just blinks. “It should be a crime,” she says dramatically, dragging the backs of her fingers along Al’s jaw to her chin, “to mark up a face as beautiful as yours.”

 

Al snorts. “You’re losing it, sweetheart.”

 

“A little,” Alicia admits. “It’s a good thing I won’t be stuck in Texas for too much longer, then. Maybe some of my sanity will come back.”

 

“Let’s hope,” Al says. “You know, I was thinking earlier, if we get one of those U-Haul trucks, we can raid a furniture store and get pretty much anything we want. And we don’t even have to pay for it, isn’t that great? Being an adult doesn’t suck so much after all.”

 

Alicia’s eyes light up. “Ooh, I want a recliner! And I want our kitchen table to be one of those that’s like chairs on one half and a bench on the other. Those are so cool. And now I kind of want a waterbed, too. Is that weird?”

 

Al grins. “You’re weird, but I’m here for it.”

 

“You, the woman with the strange urge to film almost everything, are calling _me_ weird?”

 

“You’re oddly into furniture even though the world ended.”

 

“You’re into film, I’m into furniture,” Alicia laughs. “Let me live.”

 

Alicia slips her hands beneath the leather jacket, curling her fingers into Al’s shirt and pulling Al closer. Al puts her hand against Alicia’s chest and stops her from kissing her so she can say, “But you should totally decorate the house. I’m really bad at interior design.”

 

“You mean interior design wasn’t your major at your fancy pants college?” Alicia teases.

 

Al laughs, and she brings her hand up to cup the side of Alicia’s neck as she says, “I graduated from the University of Texas, Leesh. Hardly as fancy pants as you’re thinking.”

 

“You mean you didn’t go to Harvard? Or Stanford? Yale? Not even Berkeley? Even _I_ got into Berkeley.”

 

“Don’t make fun of me,” Al says, grinning widely. “The University of Texas was a decent school.”

 

“But it’s no Berkeley.”

 

“California sucks anyway.”

 

Alicia gasps overdramatically, tightening her hold on Al’s shirt. “Take that back.”

 

“What if I don’t?”

 

“I’ll make you regret it later,” Alicia promises.

 

“I’m surprised the ocean hasn’t reclaimed California yet, with the way things have been going lately,” Al muses in the moments before Alicia goes up on her toes and brings their lips together. To Alicia’s surprise, Al doesn’t continue to try to talk, instead kissing back with as much eagerness as Alicia was hoping for. Alicia releases Al’s shirt and brings her hand up to the side of Al’s face as Al grasps onto her waist, fingers pressing against the skin right above the waistband of Alicia’s pants. Alicia lets a moan slip by accident, and Al’s fingers push against her hard enough to bruise.

 

Al hums, “Alicia,” against Alicia’s lips, but Alicia ignores her, figuring whatever she has to say can wait until later. She isn’t ready for this to end. Alicia pushes forward, but Al leans back and pulls her hands away.

 

“What?” Alicia grumbles, clutching onto Al in an attempt to keep her close. “What’s your problem?” she asks. She presses her lips back to Al’s, and Al returns the kiss halfheartedly and motions toward the back of the van.

 

“There’s – we have – the kid –” Al says between the kisses Alicia’s planting on her lips, “and Luci.”

 

Alicia freezes, hands resting on Al’s shoulders. She’s almost afraid to turn her eyes toward the open back of the van, but she does it anyway, and sure enough, Luciana and Charlie are standing in the doorway, eyes wide.

 

“We have an audience,” Al says, without interruption from Alicia this time.

 

“It’s rude to stare, you know,” Alicia says softly as heat rises from her neck to her face. Al runs her hand through her hair and turns away from Luciana and Charlie, muttering to herself as she climbs into the driver’s seat.

 

“We would’ve left if it had taken you two any longer to notice us,” Luciana says coolly, stepping up into the van and offering Charlie a hand. “But we figured it couldn’t take you too much longer.”

 

“You know, maybe you were right this whole time,” Alicia says over her shoulder. “About keeping us a secret. This wouldn’t be happening right now if we never told anyone.”

 

Al laughs from the front. “See? John and June used to take all the flak from everyone, but not anymore.”

 

“You might’ve been onto something,” Alicia mutters, hauling herself into the passenger’s seat. “Are we trying the gas station?”

 

“Once Luci gets those back doors closed, yeah.”

 

The doors slam shut, and Luciana and Charlie take their seats. “Don’t be embarrassed,” Luciana says, smirking when Alicia glances back at her. “I’ve seen worse. I don’t know about poor Charlie, though. You may have scarred her for life.”

 

“A little,” Charlie pipes up. “But John and June are so much worse.”

 

“You’re damn right they are,” Al says. “If we had awards, Alicia and I would win best couple _and_ hottest couple.”

 

“We should do an award show,” Alicia says wryly. Al pulls the van into the gas station and puts it in park. “Apocalypse Awards,” Alicia pitches. “Dibs on winning best weapon.”

 

“You think you’re going to beat John Dorie’s engraved revolvers?” Al laughs. “Good luck. We’ll see how the group votes.”

 

They smile, but it’s a bittersweet moment overall. There won’t be any Apocalypse Awards. Alicia and Al are splitting from the group.

 

In spite of Alicia’s pessimistic prediction that the gas station would be empty, it actually has plenty of diesel to offer, and they suck the station dry. Al loads the diesel into the back of the van, splitting the cans evenly for themselves and for their friends, and she returns to the driver’s seat.

 

“Ready to go back?” she asks. “Or do we need to look for anything else while we’re out?”

 

“We’re ready,” Luciana answers. Charlie’s already reading _The Little Prince_ , wearing a look of intense concentration as she flips the page. If Victor was here, Alicia thinks, it’d be perfect. As much as she likes Morgan, John, June, Sarah, and Wendell, she loves Victor, Luciana, and Al, and Charlie is definitely growing on her, as much as Alicia tries to stop it.

 

They return to the farm, and everyone except Sarah is up and about. Alicia helps Luciana and Charlie get their books inside as Al helps John move the appropriate cans of diesel from the van over to the truck. Alicia emerges from the house to join Al, as if being separated from her for too long is something she can’t bear.

 

“You take care now, you got that?” John says, clapping Al on the shoulder. “And take care of her.”

 

“Take care of June,” Al replies. She punches him playfully in the arm and manages a smile as she loops her arm around Alicia’s neck. “We’ll be fine.”

 

“I know you will be,” John says. “You’ve got each other. And hey, if you become potato farmers, I’ll be coming over for dinner sometime.”

 

“You can come over for dinner anyway,” Al says. “Potatoes or no potatoes.”

 

“Yeah, but potatoes would be nice,” John says. “I’ve been craving French fries recently.”

 

“It’s all this talk of potatoes,” Alicia says. She leans her head on Al’s shoulder and closes her eyes momentarily. God, she did _not_ sleep well last night, and it’s hitting her right now. Alicia forces her eyes back open, yawns, and pats Al on the side. “Let’s go see the others,” she suggests.

 

Al nods, and John follows them back into the house. Someone’s woken Sarah, because Alicia knows she wouldn’t be awake at this hour if it was up to her, but if Sarah’s irritated, she does a good job not showing it.

 

“So you two are finally heading out, huh?” Sarah says. “Off to play house and hopefully have lots of nasty sex. At least someone’s getting some, right?”

 

Wendell laughs like it’s the funniest shit he’s ever heard, and Luciana clamps her hands over Charlie’s ears even though it’s much too late as June chastises Sarah. Sarah laughs and fist bumps Wendell, saying, “That was a good one, wasn’t it?” as Charlie pulls Luciana’s hands from her ears.

 

“I know what sex is,” Charlie mutters. “I’m almost thirteen, you know.” Then she makes a face. “But I wish you’d covered my ears sooner. That does make a bad mental image.”

 

“Oh, my God,” Alicia says, holding her hands up. “We’re just gonna go. We’re gonna leave. Come on, Al.”

 

“Oh, relax,” Al says with a good-natured smile. “Sarah isn’t wrong.”

 

At the same time that June exclaims, “Al!” Charlie shakes her head and says, “I didn’t need to know that,” and Morgan looks like he’s had ten years knocked off the rest of his life.

 

It’s good, in a way, though. Sarah’s jokes keep anyone from getting too teary-eyed, and they’re all laughing as they take turns hugging goodbye and offering words of advice.

 

“You can always come back,” Morgan reminds them. “You’re always welcome.”

 

“Mostly welcome,” Victor says. “If you keep it in your pants while you’re with us.”

 

“We’ll miss you too, Victor,” Alicia says, hugging him one last time.

 

“I have a feeling we’ll meet again,” Victor tells her. “Try not to miss me too much in the meantime.”

 

“Take care of Luci and Charlie,” Alicia says.

 

“We’ll all be fine,” Victor assures her. “Just like you and Al are going to be fine. Better than fine, I’m guessing.”

 

He winks then sends Alicia to say goodbye to Luciana one last time as Al’s saying her final goodbye to June. When they finish, they get in the van, shuffle through some maps, and hit the road. Alicia curls up in the passenger’s seat, holding her knees to her chest and staring out the side window. She doesn’t move for so long that Al clears her throat and waits for a response.

 

“Leesh? You good?”

 

“Yeah,” Alicia says. “Are you?”

 

“Yeah,” Al says. “And I think I have an idea of where we’re going, too.”

 

She flashes Alicia a quick smile when Alicia glances over and offers her hand, which Alicia doesn’t hesitate to take in her own.

 

“So,” Al says, “you want a recliner, a kitchen table with a bench, and a waterbed. What else are you thinking?”

 

Alicia smiles and squeezes Al’s hand tighter. “Maybe we should raid a furniture store before I get any more ideas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, after this chapter there's one more full one and an epilogue scheduled. Fun fact: I actually read The Little Prince in my high school French class myself and was very surprised to see it appear in the show lol. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts/questions/concerns in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


	24. 24

They’re somewhere in Kansas when the fatigue finally hits Al. Alicia’s already offered to switch off three separate occasions, and after Al rejected her third offer, Alicia climbed into the back in search of something to do. The first thing she does, of course, is go for Al’s camera.

 

“AC,” Alicia reads off. “For Alicia Clark?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Very creative,” Alicia teases.

 

“I wasn’t going for creativity,” Al says.

 

“They’re just numbered,” Alicia observes.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Yeah? How am I supposed to know what’s on them?”

 

Al laughs and glances over her shoulder at Alicia. “You watch them,” Al says. “Or, if you’re me, you just know what’s on them.”

 

“You know what’s on all these tapes?” Alicia questions.

 

“Of course.”

 

“Okay, what’s this first one?”

 

Al hesitates. “That’s, um, that’s right after Nick –”

 

“Died and I attacked you,” Alicia finishes. “Right. Okay, how about you just tell me a good one to watch?”

 

Al smiles to herself. “Number twenty is a fun one,” she says. She listens as Alicia pops the tape labeled _20_ into the camera. The sound of Alicia and Victor singing _Don’t Go Breaking My Heart_ fills the van, and Al manages to catch sight of the mortified expression on Alicia’s face.

 

“You got this on tape?” Alicia exclaims.

 

“I got a lot of things on tape, Alicia,” Al replies.

 

Alicia shuts the camera off and mutters, “I should never watch these.”

 

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Al yawns.

 

“You’re exhausted,” Alicia says, tucking the camera away. She returns to the front. “Let me drive.”

 

“I’m good,” Al insists. “I can make it at least to Colorado.”

 

“Al, we’ve been driving for over eight hours,” Alicia points out. “And by we, I mean you. You’ve driven eight hours. It’s my turn.”

 

“I want to make it to Colorado before nightfall,” Al says.

 

“What’s the rush?” Alicia asks gently. “We’ve got all the time in the world, remember?”

 

“I just can’t wait to start my life as a small town farmer,” Al quips. “Rather than acting like I’m some goddamn superhero, crashing planes and killing virologists and shit.”

 

“Just let me drive a few hours,” Alicia bargains. “Once the sun starts to set, we’ll find a good place to pull over and spend the night, but until then, you can nap.”

 

Al gives in only because Alicia took a substantial nap shortly after they left their group behind. It was a good nap, too, because Alicia actually snored a bit. Al considered stopping just to get it on tape so she can finally prove to Alicia that she _does_ sometimes snore, believe it or not. Al pulls off and unbuckles her seatbelt. Alicia moves aside so Al can crawl into the back and spread out on the seats behind Alicia.

 

“You know what you’re doing, right?” Al asks.

 

“Yeah,” Alicia says. “Of course. Yeah. I’m totally – I got this.”

 

“That’s not very convincing.”

 

“If there’s a problem, you’ll know,” Alicia says cheerfully. “Now goodnight.”

 

Al would’ve fallen asleep a lot faster if Alicia would’ve feigned confidence in her ability to drive the van, but Al’s tired enough to sleep regardless of her spiking anxiety levels. She wakes up disoriented an undeterminable amount of time later, and she realizes two things. One: it’s dark outside. Two: the van isn’t moving.

 

“Good morning,” Alicia says, and Al nearly falls off the damn seats.

 

“Jesus, Alicia!”

 

Alicia grins at Al from across the aisle as Al sits upright. “We’re in Colorado,” Alicia informs. “Just barely. We’re at the Kansas-Colorado border. And it’s dark, so I parked us off the road in a hidden field.”

 

“Okay, did you –”

 

“The van’s all locked up,” Alicia says. “The keys are secure. There are no dead or people that I’m aware of.”

 

Al nods. “Okay. You’ve got this.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“So why are you still up?”

 

Alicia just smiles as Al’s eyes narrow.

 

“Why do you look like you were waiting for me to wake up?”

 

“Because I was,” Alicia says. She stands and reaches for the bottom of her shirt. “Because we are finally, fucking _finally_ totally alone with no risk of being interrupted and no one around to make jokes about hearing us from the next room.”

 

“Unless we’re ambushed,” Al says weakly. “Then we won’t be totally alone.”

 

Alicia flings her shirt toward the front of the van. “Yeah, unless we’re ambushed,” Alicia agrees. “But if we’re ambushed, we’re fucked. I’m not fighting naked.”

 

“I’ll fight naked,” Al dismisses. “I’m not worried.”

 

“I’m really about to get naked in front of you, and you’re just gonna keep talking, aren’t you?”

 

Al grins. “That’s kind of how I am.”

 

“Yes,” Alicia sighs. “And I love you, and all your little quirks. But right now, I really just need to – I really need to _have sex_ , you know? Can we just do that?”

 

Al laughs and nods, sliding out of Alicia’s leather jacket. “I’m assuming we’re just gonna go on a scavenger hunt for our clothes in the morning?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Sounds about right.”

 

Al throws the jacket, then her shirt, as Alicia’s pulling her boots off and struggling to get out of her pants. Alicia nearly falls over in the process but eventually gets herself free of her jeans and chucks those somewhere near the front as well. She goes to straddle Al’s hips the moment Al finally sheds her last piece of clothing, but Alicia braces her hand on the side of Al’s face, and Al winces.

 

“Careful,” Al says, pulling at Alicia’s wrist. “That’s still tender.”

 

Alicia hisses in pain herself, and Al quickly releases her hold on Alicia’s wrist. “Right,” Alicia sighs, gently rubbing at her aching wrist. “How are we going to do this?”

 

“We’re naked,” Al says. “We’re halfway there. I’m sure we can figure out the rest.”

 

“Without hurting each other?”

 

Al grins lopsidedly. “If you hurt me a little, then you hurt me a little. Oh well.”

 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Alicia says, touching her fingertips to Al’s jaw. “Your face is messed up enough as it is. I don’t want to make it worse.”

 

“Wow, thanks,” Al says. “Then I guess we have to go slow and gentle.”

 

“I don’t want to go slow and gentle,” Alicia groans. “I just wanna get fucked, _goddamn_ it.”

 

“Then hurt me a little,” Al whispers, pressing her lips against Alicia’s throat.

 

“I can’t hurt you.”

 

“Well, tough shit.”

 

Al flips Alicia onto her back, and Alicia hisses as her bare skin touches the cool metal of the seats. Alicia locks her legs around Al’s hips, arches up into Al, and sinks her teeth into her barely healed lower lip. Al drops a kiss onto the center of Alicia’s chest, and Alicia’s hands knot in her hair, trying to urge her lower.

 

“My right hand’s still a little messed up,” Al says against Alicia’s stomach, “so forgive me if I’m a little sloppy.”

 

“Your tongue’s just fine.”

 

“My nose is still a tiny bit broken,” Al reminds. “Like I said. Forgive me.”

 

“You’re forgiven. Just hurry up.”

 

Al chuckles, stopping just short of where Alicia wants her to be. “Someone’s being awfully pushy, considering I’m about to –”

 

“Oh my God,” Alicia moans, tightening her hold on Al’s hair to the point that it’s borderline painful. “Just shut up and touch me already. Jesus.”

 

“You want me to just go for it? No foreplay, nothing?”

 

“You’re naked, and I’ve been wanting to have sex basically since we survived that plane crash, so I’m good to go. Come on,” Alicia whines.

 

“Since the plane crash?”

 

“Yeah, adrenaline or something. I don’t know. Oh my God!”

 

There are lots of _ows_ – mostly from Al, and mostly due to the pressure being put on her face – but they manage. More than manage, really. Alicia comes four times. In a row. Al’s relieved when Alicia passes out almost immediately after, giving her a moment to catch her breath. Al has to squeeze herself into the limited space between Alicia’s body and the wall of the van, since Alicia’s totally out and hogging most of the seats. Al makes it work, securing her arm around Alicia’s bare waist and resting her head on Alicia’s shoulder.

 

Al wakes up naked, pressed against the metal seats. It’s hot enough that she has to peel herself away, grunting, and she flips her hair out of her eyes as she blinks her vision into focus. Before she feels the need to call out for Alicia, she hears her rustling around nearby.

 

“What time is it?” Al mumbles.

 

“Early,” Alicia replies. “Put some clothes on.”

 

“You put some clothes on,” Al retorts, but her eyes find Alicia by her safe and she realizes Alicia’s already wearing clothes. “Hey, that’s my shirt.”

 

“It’s mine now,” Alicia says with a shrug.

 

“I need something to wear.”

 

“And you have other shirts,” Alicia points out.

 

“It doesn’t even fit you,” Al grumbles.

 

Alicia grins. “That’s how I like it. Now stop complaining. Get some clothes on and eat some breakfast, grouchy pants.”

 

Al groans and forces herself to sit up. Her nose aches a little, but it’s nothing a couple pills won’t fix. Alicia throws something at Al, and it bounces off her bare chest down into her hands. Al shakes her head and sets the protein bar aside. She can eat once she isn’t completely naked.

 

“Wait,” Al says, pointing her finger at Alicia. “Why are you holding my camera? Do you suddenly want to make a sex tape?”

 

“What? No!” Alicia blurts. Al smiles at the way Alicia’s face burns red, and she shrugs and searches for something to wear. “I just – I had an idea.”

 

“An idea,” Al echoes, pulling a black shirt that probably belongs to Alicia over her head. It’s a little tighter than Al likes her clothes to be, so she determines that the shirt is most definitely Alicia’s, but she keeps it on. She slides into sweats that also aren’t hers, because she figures she has no one to impress – and Alicia can’t judge her, because she’s wearing bright red leggings.

 

“Yeah,” Alicia says, gnawing on her lower lip. “I mean, I know you haven’t been filming much lately, but I thought – we haven’t had the chance to document _our_ story.”

 

“Our story?” Al says dumbly. She jams her hands into the pockets of the sweatpants and raises her eyebrows. “You mean like –”

 

“How we met. How we got together. The whole shebang.”

 

“Shebang?”

 

“Stop repeating my words back to me,” Alicia laughs.

 

“I’m sorry,” Al says, scratching the back of her neck. “I’m kind of out of it.”

 

“Great sex does that to you.”

 

“I slept really well,” Al admits. She stretches out, reaching up toward the ceiling of the van, and adds, “And I feel ten years younger.”

 

Alicia smirks. “Great sex does that to you. Mostly because you’re old.”

 

“Hey! Thirty is _not_ old.”

 

Alicia pauses. “When’s your birthday? I don’t think you’ve ever told me.”

 

“You haven’t told me yours.”

 

“Tell you what,” Alicia says. “I’ll tell you my birthday on the day so you can’t plan anything.”

 

“Fine,” Al agrees. “But I’m not telling you mine until the day, either.”

 

“Fine,” Alicia says. She holds the camera out to Al. “Take this.”

 

Al takes the camera, but she stores it back in the safe. Before Alicia can protest, Al says, “We’ll film it once we’re settled, yeah?”

 

“Fine,” Alicia huffs. “But you’re driving first.”

 

“Fine with me,” Al says. She snatches the protein bar off the seats, makes a crack about wiping the seats down before it’s too late, and climbs up into the driver’s seat. If Al’s calculations are correct, they’ve got about another day of driving to get out of the way. It’s just after seven in the morning, so if they drive for a good fourteen hours, they’ll reach Oregon by early evening tomorrow at the latest.

 

Al drives, and Alicia reads. Then Alicia drives, and Al reads.

 

“Maybe I was wrong,” Alicia says when they’re somewhere in Colorado. “Maybe we should stay in Colorado.”

 

“Idaho,” Al counters.

 

Alicia rolls her eyes and mutters, “Never mind. We’ll stick with Oregon.”

 

“Good choice.”

 

They do stop somewhere in Idaho for the second night, and thankfully, Alicia’s content with just cuddling and almost immediately goes to sleep, because Al’s nose is still sore. They reach Oregon in the afternoon, and Alicia cracks the window.

 

“We picked the right state,” Alicia declares.

 

“I know,” Al says. “So stop second guessing yourself.”

 

“Ooh! A furniture store!” Alicia exclaims.

 

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

 

Finding a place turns out to be much easier than Al anticipated. She and Alicia agree on the third farm they visit. It must’ve been abandoned, because they find no bodies, living or dead.

 

“We need to _totally_ redecorate,” Alicia says.

 

“At least there are granite countertops,” Al says.

 

“Yes, but we need to _paint_ ,” Alicia complains. “And swap out almost all the furniture. And the barn leaves something to be desired.”

 

“But there’s plenty of land,” Al points out. “We can grow all sorts of things.”

 

“The fireplace is nice,” Alicia muses. “There’s lots of natural light, and the fence should hold off the dead long enough to give us a chance to mount a defense.”

 

Al lets Alicia talk herself through the pros and cons of the place, but it’s already their home. It’s their home long before Al has to help Alicia haul nearly all the house’s furniture into a U-Haul truck even though by the end, her muscles ache and she’s pretty sure she’s strained something. Al drives the U-Haul truck to the nearest furniture store, and they dump the house’s furniture in the lot and refill the truck with furniture to Alicia’s liking.

 

“You’re sure about white leather?” Al questions. “Because blood shows up really well on white.”

 

“You bring that up _now_ ,” Alicia says through her teeth, “when we’re both carrying a heavy ass couch out to the truck?”

 

“Better now than when we get home.”

 

“It works well in the room!”

 

Al smiles and helps Alicia load the white leather furniture into the truck. Next goes the table, with the two chairs and the bench seats. There are no waterbeds, but Alicia finds one of those really nice memory foam mattresses, and she forgets all about the waterbed. Al forgets about sleeping well tonight, because her muscles aren’t going to forgive her. She’s pretty sure she’s doing 70% of the lifting, but on the bright side, she won’t have to work out for a couple weeks.

 

When they’re sure they’ve got everything they want in the truck, Al pulls the back door shut and locks it with a padlock. She exhales heavily and pushes her hands into her hair. The sun’s going to set within the next hour, turning the sky a beautiful red-orange color, but Al’s legs are ready to give out, and she swears her arms are throbbing. Al decides it’s worth it when Alicia sneaks up behind her and snakes her arms around her waist. Alicia rests her chin on Al’s shoulder and inhales deeply.

 

“We still have to unload all this furniture,” Alicia whispers beside Al’s ear.

 

“Don’t remind me,” Al groans.

 

“Tomorrow,” Alicia says.

 

“Then where are we going to sleep tonight?”

 

Alicia smiles. “Either on the bedroom floor or in the van. You choose.”

 

“I’ll take the floor,” Al says. “At least it’s carpeted.”

 

Alicia presses her lips against the side of Al’s neck and shifts back slightly, grabbing onto Al’s biceps. She gently runs her hands up and down Al’s aching arms, and Al lets her eyes close.

 

“We should go,” Alicia murmurs. “It’ll be dark soon.”

 

“I don’t think there’s anything out here,” Al says. “We’ve killed less than ten of the dead since we crossed the border into Oregon.”

 

“We can’t just stand here all night.”

 

Al hums. “You’re right.” She reaches into her pocket and holds up the keys. “You drive. My muscles are killing me.”

 

Alicia pouts. “Does that mean we’re not having sex on the floor of our new house tonight?”

 

“Now I know I did most of the lifting,” Al grumbles, “because if _you_ hurt as much as I did, you wouldn’t even be thinking about sex.”

 

Alicia laughs, kisses Al’s jaw, and plucks the keys out of her hand. “I’ll take care of you,” Alicia promises.

 

“Honestly, I just want a hot shower,” Al says.

 

“Mm, that sounds better than sex right now,” Alicia agrees. They get into the U-Haul, and Alicia starts the engine. “We’ve got running water at the house,” Alicia reminds. “We can manually heat the water. Take a bath.”

 

“You’re taking care of that,” Al says. “Since I did most of the work today, and I’ll be doing most of the work tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Alicia says. “Just keep whining over there. I’ll figure out how to get us a warm bath.”

 

“Us?”

 

“Us,” Alicia confirms. “Nice try, but I’m not sitting this one out.”

 

“You turned left,” Al says. “You should’ve turned right.”

 

“Damn it,” Alicia hisses. She slams on the breaks and turns them around as Al laughs to herself. “I don’t have a good sense of direction, okay?” Alicia says. “Don’t say anything.”

 

Al grins and doesn’t say anything. She directs Alicia back to their house, and Alicia manages to back the U-Haul up without hitting anything. Al’s boots hit the grass, and her knees nearly give out. Alicia detours to the van and grabs the camera and a blank tape while Al lets herself inside and collapses onto the carpet.

 

“Here, hold onto this,” Alicia says, setting the camera loaded with the blank tape on the floor beside Al. “I’ll go get the bath going.”

 

“Heating that much water is going to take forever,” Al says.

 

“You’re probably right,” Alicia admits. “I guess we’re taking an ice bath.” Al groans, but Alicia says, “Don’t worry. We’ll warm it up ourselves. And the cool water will help your muscles.”

 

“No it won’t.”

 

Alicia shushes her, double checks that all the doors and windows are locked, and rushes upstairs. She doesn’t return until after Al hears water running, and the first thing she does is scoop up the camera.

 

“Come on,” Alicia says. “You just have to get yourself upstairs.”

 

Al complains the whole way up, dragging herself to the master bathroom. Her overdramatic whining makes Alicia smile, though, so Al doesn’t get to her feet until she’s right outside the bathroom.

 

“See?” Alicia says. “You’re fine.”

 

Al’s barely listening. “God, we need to paint this room,” Al says. “And by we, I’m guessing it’s going to be me.”

 

“I can paint,” Alicia dismisses.

 

“But can you do a good job?” Al questions. She slides out of her jacket and throws it toward the center of the bedroom.

 

“Probably not,” Alicia snorts. “But who’s going to judge us? It’s not like we’re going to be throwing dinner parties.”

 

“By that logic, it’s probably best not to bother painting then.”

 

“What else do we have to do?” Alicia asks. “Besides figure out how to feed ourselves and stay entertained.”

 

“Good point,” Al concedes. She strips naked and forces herself into the tub of cold water, hissing.

 

“Stop being a baby,” Alicia says, gently combing her fingers through Al’s hair. “And move over.”

 

“Sit in front of me,” Al says. She splays her arms out and leans back into the tub. “I’m not moving.”

 

“Fine,” Alicia says. “But you’re being a baby.”

 

“I did most of the lifting!”

 

Alicia laughs and carefully gets in the tub, leaning back into Al. The cold water doesn’t seem to bother Alicia. “Yes,” Alicia says. “You did. Thank you.”

 

Al grunts. “You’re welcome.”

 

“It’s because you’re stronger than me,” Alicia says. “You work out.”

 

“I’m not that much stronger than you,” Al says. “Don’t delude yourself. You just didn’t want to put the effort in.”

 

“You let me slack.”

 

Al smiles, lets her eyes close so she can enjoy the feeling of the water – and Alicia – against her bare skin. “Maybe a little,” Al admits. “But you aren’t slacking tomorrow. You have to help me get the furniture up the stairs, and believe me, that’s much harder than hauling shit down.”

 

“Okay, but afterward, we’re fucking on the new mattress.”

 

“Maybe we should’ve done that in the furniture store to make sure it’s the right one.”

 

“Shit!” Alicia exclaims. “We should’ve thought of that _before_ we brought the mattress here.”

 

Al laughs. “Calm down. I’m sure it’s fine.”

 

“You know, I thought once we were alone, all we were gonna do was fuck,” Alicia says.

 

“We’ve got plenty of time,” Al dismisses. “I mean, we’re naked in a tub full of water right now. That’s good enough for me.”

 

“That’s because your body hurts.”

 

Al clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “You’re damn right. Give me a couple weeks. Everything will heal completely, the house will be set up, and then we can fuck all the time.”

 

“A couple weeks,” Alicia grumbles, “might as well be a couple years.”

 

“Being a homeowner is hard, Alicia.”

 

“You’ve owned a home?”

 

Al grins and wraps her arms around Alicia’s chest, dropping her chin down to Alicia’s shoulder. “Well, yeah,” Al says. “I _was_ married once, remember?”

 

“Actually, I forgot,” Alicia admits. “And that doesn’t mean you owned a home.”

 

“I did, though,” Al says. “You’re lucky you don’t have to deal with mortgages and property taxes and shit.”

 

“We just have to deal with the ever present threat of the living dead,” Alicia says wryly. “A wonderful trade off.”

 

Al isn’t sure how long they stay in the tub, but Alicia’s the one to get out first and dry off. Al wants nothing more than to drag herself out to the bedroom floor and pass out naked on the middle of the floor, but Alicia gets the damn camera and says something about filming.

 

“Tonight?” Al says. “Can’t it wait?”

 

“No.”

 

“I said once we’re settled,” Al reminds. “All the furniture’s out in the truck still. I don’t think that counts as _settled_.”

 

“Put your clothes on,” Alicia orders. “Or do it naked. I don’t really care, but your future audience might.”

 

“What future audience?”

 

Alicia blinks. “The people in the future that are going to watch your tapes and know personal shit about us even though they’ll have no clue who we are. That future audience.”

 

“Remember when you hated the camera?” Al says. She gets her clothes on. “I miss those days.”

 

Alicia rolls her eyes. “C’mon, Al. Be serious.”

 

“I can’t do this off the top of my head,” Al says. “There’s too much.”

 

“You interview people all the time,” Alicia says. “You don’t ask them for every detail. Just the important stuff. So talk about the important stuff, then I’ll talk about what I think is important, and we’ll be done. For now.”

 

“For now?” Al says.

 

Alicia smiles. “There’ll always be more to add.”

 

Al smirks. “You don’t think we should leave the future audience a sex tape?”

 

Alicia successfully fights off laughter and puts on a serious face, aiming the camera at Al’s face. “You ready?”

 

“No.”

 

The camera begins to record. “It’s simple,” Alicia says softly. “Just tell me your name. Where you’re from. What you’ve seen.”

 

Al’s lips quirk upward. “I’m Althea Szewczek-Przygocki, but no one calls me Althea anymore. It’s Al. I’m from Dallas. And I once stopped to help this injured girl in the middle of the road, but she wasn’t injured. She was playing me. But I just wanted to help.”

 

Alicia laughs. “I don’t think that’s a very fair assessment.”

 

“You threatened to kill me,” Al says. She looks straight into the camera. “And not for the first time, either.”

 

“We can’t do this individually,” Alicia says, shaking her head. “You aren’t going to tell it right.”

 

“What do you mean?” Al says, grinning. “I think I’m doing a great job.”

 

“We’re going to waste twenty tapes trying to get this right.”

 

“I’m doing great,” Al dismisses. “Stop talking so I can finish.”

 

Alicia rolls her eyes but smiles widely and motions for Al to continue.

 

“As I was saying,” Al says. “This girl threatened to kill me in the middle of fucking nowhere, Texas. She literally could slit my throat, but all I could think about was how pretty her eyes were –”

 

“Al!”

 

“What?” Al says. “I’m being serious. See? This is my serious face.”

 

Alicia turns the camera on her own face. “She’s not being serious,” Alicia says. “She was totally not thinking about my eyes.”

 

“I was,” Al says. “You have no way to know what I was or was not thinking at the time.”

 

“You were thinking _oh my God, this crazy bitch is about to kill me_.”

 

Alicia trains the camera back on Al right as she exclaims, “I was not! I was looking at the prettiest woman I’d seen since before the world ended.”

 

Alicia snorts. “Yeah, right! You fucking liar! My hair was all wild, and I was probably giving off serial killer vibes.”

 

Al shrugs. “I like what I like.”

 

Alicia laughs so hard she can’t keep the camera focused on Al, and Al seizes the opportunity to take the camera from Alicia.

 

“Okay,” Al says as Alicia’s laughter winds down. “If you don’t like how I’m telling the story, you go for it. Give me the basics first.”

 

“Alicia Clark,” Alicia says. She stares at Al rather than at the camera. “I’m from Los Angeles, but now I’m living out my dream in Oregon.”

 

“Shut up,” Al says. “We just got here.”

 

“And I already love it,” Alicia says. “It’s so fucking quiet here. It’s great. If you’re watching this, people of the future, you should totally check out Oregon.”

 

“Oregon’s just quiet because we left our loud friends behind,” Al says.

 

“We need to make a tape about our loud friends,” Alicia says.

 

“Later,” Al replies. “Come on. You didn’t finish. You still have to tell me what you’ve seen.”

 

Alicia smiles devilishly. “You’re sure you want that answer on camera?”

 

Al pauses. “We’re going to try this again later. For real.”

 

Alicia nods. “Yeah. Once we get settled.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Turn that off,” Alicia says. “I’ll help your sore muscles.”

 

“Massage my shoulders,” Al says, shutting the camera off and setting it aside.

 

“That isn’t what I meant!”

 

“Come on. You owe me –”

 

“For doing most of the lifting,” Alicia mutters. “I know. God, you’re no fun.”

 

“Fun comes later. Once the house is together and our only line of defense isn’t a fence and a deadbolt on the front door.”

 

“Since when are you the rational one?” Alicia asks, settling behind Al and grasping onto her shoulders.

 

“I’ve always been the rational one,” Al replies. “Ooh, right there. Dig in with your right thumb.”

 

“I hate you.”

 

“You own a house with me,” Al says. A moan rumbles in the back of her throat as Alicia digs in with her thumb. “You _love_ me, Alicia Clark,” Al teases.

 

“You loved me first.”

 

“You said it first,” Al retorts.

 

“Ouch,” Alicia chuckles. “You got me there.” Alicia pauses. “You really thought about my eyes when I was threatening you with the barrel?”

 

“For, like, a second, I got distracted,” Al says. “They’re very pretty.”

 

“You’re pretty.”

 

“Yeah, well, you’re gorgeous.”

 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Alicia quips, and they both dissolve into laughter. Al lets herself fall back so her head rests in Alicia’s lap, and Alicia’s hands immediately push into Al’s hair as Al stares up at her.

 

“We have a home,” Al whispers. “ _Together_.”

 

“Finally,” Alicia says. She makes a face. “You were right. We really need to paint this bedroom. That color is horrendous.”

 

Al grins. “We should make a list of shit we have to do. Move the furniture in. Paint. Figure out how to farm.”

 

“Finish the tape of our story,” Alicia adds.

 

“Like we’re ever going to be able to seriously tell that story.”

 

“Then the future audience won’t get the serious version,” Alicia says, smiling at Al fondly. “They’ll get the super ridiculous version. Maybe that version’s more authentic anyway.”

 

“I’m telling the antifreeze part,” Al says. “Called it.”

 

“Then I get the factory,” Alicia counters.

 

“I want the plane crash.”

 

“But I get to tell the part where your stupid ass ran away.”

 

“You don’t even know what really happened there,” Al dismisses.

 

“Neither do you. Your memory’s all fucked up.”

 

“Hey!” Al protests as Alicia giggles. “Let’s be real,” Al says. “We’re both going to be telling everything.”

 

“Yeah, because you can’t tell it right.”

 

“Your version isn’t much better.”

 

“What do you mean?” Alicia says, batting her eyelashes. “My version is unbiased.”

 

“You’re so full of shit, Alicia,” Al laughs.

 

Alicia shrugs and splays her fingers out in Al’s hair. “You need a haircut,” Alicia says.

 

“You aren’t touching my hair. You’ll ruin it. Find me a barber.”

 

“Maybe we should’ve gone to see Daniel then,” Alicia muses. “He was a barber.”

 

“What?”

 

“He didn’t tell you?”

 

“Damn,” Al says. “We missed a good opportunity.”

 

Alicia rolls her eyes. “You know, if we don’t go to sleep soon, it’s going to be morning.”

 

Al smiles. “Let it be morning,” she says. “What does it matter?”

 

“We have to bring the furniture inside in the morning.”

 

Al grimaces. “You’re right. We should sleep. You have to haul the furniture in tomorrow.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“My muscles hurt,” Al whines. “You do some of the lifting for once.”

 

Alicia rolls her eyes and makes Al sit up so she can lower herself next to Al on the carpet. “This carpet is nice,” Alicia comments. “Do we even need a mattress? We could just sleep on the floor.”

 

“I didn’t carry that mattress into a truck so you could decide we don’t need a mattress,” Al says. “We’re getting that damn mattress in here.”

 

“We’ll make a list,” Alicia says. She lifts Al’s arm and slides beneath it, nestling against Al’s chest. “I can’t sleep,” Alicia declares.

 

“Then just lay here,” Al replies.

 

“I could stay here forever,” Alicia murmurs.

 

“Because the carpet’s so nice?”

 

Alicia shoves at Al’s side. “Because you’re here.”

 

“I just like hearing you say it.”

 

“You’re an ass,” Alicia says.

 

“I’m your ass.”

 

Alicia inhales deeply and tightens her hold around Al’s waist. “Yeah. And I’m yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kind of makes it seem like I have a thing for Oregon, but I've never been there and don't have strong feelings toward Oregon, so I don't know where that all came from lol. It was nice to be able to write a chapter in which Al and Alicia get to be happy in their own sort of way. 
> 
> This is the sort of last chapter, as the final chapter will be a short-ish epilogue. I'm so happy I'm able to finish a project of this size. It's hard for me to believe that this was originally meant to be a one-shot - and that I started this over a month ago. The time really flies. Thank you all for being on this journey with me. I'll admit, it's tough for me to wrap up this project, but I hope you'll stick around for the other FTWD projects I want to put out. I'm on tumblr at blinkaftermidnight, and absolutely feel free to shoot me a message there. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts/questions/concerns in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


	25. Epilogue

_One Year Later_

 

Alicia steps out onto the back porch, cradling a mug in her hands, and she shuts the door behind her without calling Al’s attention to her just yet. She sips at her coffee and takes a seat on the step, watching as Al swings the axe and splits another log in half. Alicia sets the mug on the step beside her and smiles as Al lowers the axe to the ground, lifting the Dallas Cowboys hat off her head to run her fingers through her sweat soaked hair. She’s wearing a tank top – and she’d refused the sunscreen Alicia tried to make her wear – so while she won’t end up with bad farmer’s tan, her arms are definitely going to be darker than the rest of her body. And her face is already red. Alicia shakes her head to herself and twists the band around her left ring finger, watching the sunlight glint off the diamond.

 

“Hey!” Al calls. “Don’t just sit there and stare! Come chop wood with me!”

 

“I’ll pass,” Alicia replies. “I like the view.”

 

Al puts her hands on her hips and nods, gazing out at their land. “The potatoes are very beautiful, I must say.”

 

“You and your goddamn potatoes,” Alicia mutters. She stands, abandoning the mug and stepping off the patio to join Al. Al grins easily, and Alicia’s eyes trace along her face, take in all the details. There are the reminders. Al’s nose is crooked in a way it didn’t used to be. June was right about the gash in Al’s face leaving a nasty, very visible scar, but it healed with no problems, and Alicia doesn’t even flinch when she looks at it anymore. The scar left by the bullet in Al’s neck is much fainter, but if Alicia really tries, she can still see it.

 

“Yeah,” Al agrees quietly. “Me and my goddamn potatoes. Finally, I get to live _my_ dream.”

 

Alicia rolls her eyes but smiles, placing her hands on each side of Al’s neck. Alicia makes a face. “You’re really sweaty, babe.”

 

“Then take over,” Al suggests, motioning toward the axe. “We need firewood for the winter.”

 

“Winter is months away.”

 

“It’s never too early to start prepping for winter.”

 

“You just like showing off,” Alicia murmurs.

 

“Showing off _what_?”

 

Alicia shrugs. “I don’t know.”

 

Al grins, drops a quick kiss on Alicia’s forehead, and steps away from her touch. Al hefts the axe back up and grabs another hunk of wood. She offers the axe to Alicia, but Alicia shakes her head and watches as Al splits the log, chucking the halves onto the pile.

 

“You know,” Al says, pausing to set up another piece of wood. “John was within range the other day.”

 

“Yeah?” Alicia says. She watches the way the muscles in Al’s arm ripples as she lifts the axe then brings her eyes to Al’s face. Maybe if she’d wear the hat properly instead of wearing it backwards, her face wouldn’t be getting sunburned right now. “What’d he say?” Alicia asks. “Does he want to come knock that one wall out for us?”

 

“We’re not knocking walls out,” Al laughs breathlessly. She splits another log. “No, he said he proposed to June,” she says.

 

“What?” Alicia exclaims. “That’s great!”

 

Al smiles wryly. “They’re planning a wedding.”

 

“An apocalypse wedding?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“No cake, I’m guessing,” Alicia grumbles.

 

“We didn’t have cake,” Al points out. “And we’re doing just fine.”

 

“But that was _our_ wedding, not someone else’s,” Alicia says. “Our reward was immediately consummating the marriage. The only thing we get from John and June’s wedding is –”

 

“Seeing our friends be happy?” Al says.

 

Alicia laughs. “ _Yes_. But I want cake, too. You _know_ their wedding is going to be full of sappy, tearful moments. They’ll probably write vows. It’ll be hard to stomach.”

 

“We wrote vows,” Al counters. She grunts as she splits another log, and Alicia finally takes the axe from her and motions for Al to take a drink of water.

 

“But our vows were private,” Alicia replies. “We didn’t read them in front of a room full of our friends.” She takes a swing at a log and doesn’t manage to chop all the way through it. “How do you do that?” Alicia asks.

 

“Do what?”

 

“Split the log in one go.”

 

“Talent,” Al says. She gulps down half her water, swipes at the sweat running down her forehead, and tries to take the axe back.

 

“It’s my turn,” Alicia says sternly, guarding the axe from Al. Al raises her hands in surrender and takes a seat, motioning for Alicia to continue. Alicia manages to split the log with the second swing, but just barely. “So we’re going to a wedding,” Alicia says.

 

“No,” Al says. “The wedding’s coming to us.”

 

Alicia’s eyes widen. “What?”

 

“Yeah,” Al says nonchalantly. “They’re coming here.”

 

“Oh my God!” Alicia exclaims. She drops the axe and presses her hands to her forehead. “Our house is in _no_ shape to host guests!”

 

Al laughs. “Relax, Leesh. We have plenty of time to get ready.”

 

“The guest bedroom has been half painted for months!”

 

“We’ll finish painting it,” Al promises. “And I’ll fix that hole you put in the wall –”

 

“We agreed never to speak of that!”

 

Al grins. “Okay, but the fact of the matter is there’s a hole in our bedroom wall, and I need to fix it before John and June bring the whole crew here for their wedding. You know June will want a tour of the place, and I don’t really want to explain why there’s a hole in our wall.”

 

Alicia takes a seat in the grass beside Al and grasps onto her knee. “We’re really gonna see everyone?”

 

“Yeah,” Al says. “And then some. Apparently, they’ve gained a few people.”

 

“I feel bad,” Alicia says. Al covers Alicia’s hand with her own, and Alicia’s eyes drop to the simplistic onyx band on Al’s finger. Alicia links their fingers together and lifts her eyes to Al’s.

 

“Why?”

 

“We didn’t invite them to our wedding,” Alicia answers.

 

“I’m sure they’ll forgive us.”

 

“John and June are gonna consummate their marriage in our house,” Alicia blurts. She covers her mouth with her free hand as Al laughs and nods.

 

“They probably are.”

 

“Oh my God.”

 

“Victor will give them shit about it, don’t worry,” Al says.

 

Alicia nods. “Your hand is really sweaty.”

 

“I’ve been chopping wood. Cut me some slack.”

 

Alicia smiles and yanks the hat from Al’s head, tossing it behind them. “You need to shower,” Alicia says as Al pushes her sweat drenched hair back from her eyes. “You are grossly sweaty.”

 

“You chop the wood from now on then.”

 

“No thanks.” Alicia pauses. “You need another haircut.”

 

“You aren’t touching my hair,” Al warns. “I’ll take care of it.”

 

Alicia rolls her eyes. “We can’t just keep sitting here,” she says. “We need to finish painting and fix that hole in the wall, and I’m still not sure about the living room. I think we need to rearrange some things –”

 

“No more rearranging,” Al cuts in. “I always do all the heavy lifting.”

 

Alicia jabs Al in the bicep then lowers her head onto Al’s shoulder. “It’s because you’re the strong one.”

 

“It’s because you don’t do your fair share when we lift things.”

 

Alicia smiles and stares out at their potatoes. Well, if you ask Al, they’re _her_ potatoes. And frankly, Al’s doing most of the work, so Alicia supposes it’s fair of Al to call them her potatoes.

 

“So what do we do first?” Alicia asks. “Fix the hole or finish painting the guest room?”

 

“I’ll fix the hole. You finish painting,” Al says. “You’re the one who left it unfinished in the first place.”

 

Alicia grins. “I got distracted.”

 

“Yeah, you got so distracted, you never went back. It’s been months.”

 

Alicia snorts. “Now I have the incentive to finish it. We have guests coming.”

 

“Is that okay?” Al asks cautiously. “Because I know I promised John they could have their wedding here without asking you.”

 

“Of course it’s okay. It’s more than okay.” Alicia squeezes Al’s hand, barely able to keep her excitement from seeping into her voice. “We get to be _hosts_.”

 

“Hostesses.”

 

“Same shit,” Alicia says. “We should have a double wedding.”

 

“We’re already married.”

 

“We should get remarried,” Alicia says. “Wait. No. That makes it sound like we got divorced. We should renew our vows. There you go.”

 

“And steal the spotlight from John and June?”

 

“They can go first,” Alicia mutters. “Come on. We never got to celebrate with our friends.”

 

Al groans. “Oh, God. Sarah and Wendell are going to ‘celebrate’ with a drinking contest, aren’t they?”

 

“Probably,” Alicia says. “So you better be ready. You have to outdrink Sarah.”

 

“I _have_ to?”

 

“I didn’t marry a loser!”

 

“You married a Szewczek-Przygocki, and Szewczek-Przygockis do _not_ win drinking contests.”

 

“We’re telling our friends you took my name,” Alicia says. “Clark is so much easier to say.”

 

“No, we’re double hyphenating,” Al argues. “Szewczek-Przygocki-Clark.”

 

“My name’s not going last.”

 

“Clark-Szewczek-Przygocki doesn’t sound right.”

 

“Yes it does.”

 

Al shakes her head and conceals her smile from Alicia, pushing herself to her feet. Alicia comes with her, because she refuses to release her hold on Al’s hand, and she follows as Al goes to retrieve her hat. She smacks it onto Alicia’s head, pulling the brim down over her eyes. Alicia laughs and swats the hat off her head, and Al manages to catch it with her free hand before it hits the ground. Al puts the hat back on her own head as Alicia smiles adoringly up at her.

 

“Here’s an idea,” Alicia says, tapping her fingers against Al’s shoulder. “Only the people who can pronounce your last name correctly are allowed to drink at the wedding.”

 

“That’ll knock Sarah and Wendell right out,” Al laughs.

 

“Exactly,” Alicia says. “And I’ll get to drink.”

 

“Yeah,” Al snorts. “It only took you a year.”

 

“But hey, I’ve got it down now.”

 

Al shrugs. “Mostly.” She grabs the axe and braces it against her shoulder. “C’mon. We’ll do a quick sweep of the property and head in. We’ve got work to do.”

 

Alicia agrees, but she has to strain to remember the last time she had to kill something, dead or alive. It’s been a while. In fact, she’s afraid she’s getting rusty. Maybe she should start chopping wood. At least Al’s been finding ways to stay in shape in case they’re ever flung back into the undead world.

 

“You know,” Alicia says, walking in stride with Al toward the barn, “our friends bring trouble everywhere they go.”

 

“Yeah,” Al says. “So? We can handle trouble. I’m getting pretty good with this axe.”

 

“You and your axe against the world?”

 

“Nah,” Al says. “You, me, and this axe.” She pauses. “We should get a cat.”

 

“A cat?”

 

“Yeah.” Al shakes her head. “We’ll worry about that after John and June are apocalypse married, though. I don’t want to overwhelm you, since I know it takes you months to paint one bedroom.”

 

“Oh, shut up,” Alicia laughs. “We’ll get a cat. If we can find one.”

 

“There’s one that lives in the barn,” Al says. “I just haven’t been able to persuade him to come close enough to me so I can grab him, but I’ll get there.”

 

“You’ve named the cat, haven’t you?”

 

Al grins. “His name is Steve.”

 

“What if Steve is a girl?”

 

“Steve can be a girl’s name. It’s the apocalypse. Gender norms don’t matter.”

 

“God,” Alicia says. “When’s this wedding happening? I need Victor to talk some sense into you. You named a cat _Steve_ , for God’s sake.”

 

“Steve is a solid name,” Al replies. Al sets the axe with their other tools and glances around the barn, hands on her hips. “He’s hiding in here somewhere,” Al insists. “He only likes me when I have food.”

 

“Get the paint,” Alicia sighs.

 

“The paint can wait,” Al says.

 

Alicia ducks away from Al’s attempt to kiss her. “Not in the barn,” Alicia hisses. “What if Steve sees us?”

 

“You’re right,” Al agrees. “And there’s a bed in the house.”

 

“Forget the bed,” Alicia says, grabbing Al’s hand and tugging her toward the exit. “I’ve always wanted to do it on the granite countertops.”

 

“You drew the line at the white leather couch, but not the granite?”

 

“We can clean granite,” Alicia replies.

 

“Someone’s going to spill wine on the couch during this wedding. Just get used to the idea now.”

 

Alicia pauses. “Do we really need to check the property? Do you really think anything’s here?”

 

Al glances toward her potatoes. “No, we’re good,” Al says. “Just make sure we lock all the doors.” Before Al locks the barn up, she calls, “Steve! I’ll be back with dinner!”

 

“Dinner’s gonna be late,” Alicia replies, smirking. “Both Steve’s dinner and ours.”

 

They rush back to the house, laughing, and they hurry to lock all the doors and pull all the curtains shut. “The granite?” Al questions.

 

Alicia nods, teeth sinking into her lower lip. “Lift me,” she requests.

 

“I lift all the furniture, I do all the yard work, and now you want me to lift you?” Al complains as she’s already hoisting Alicia up onto the countertop. “Jesus Christ, Alicia, you’re gonna kill me.”

 

Alicia trails her fingertips down Al’s arms, though her eyes follow a bead of sweat that’s steadily rolling down Al’s neck toward her chest. “What can I say?” Alicia murmurs as Al’s fingers pop the button on her jeans. “I like muscles. And you do _not_ do all the yard work. Just most of it.”

 

“Alicia?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Stop talking.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, my friends, this is the last of Crash! I hope you've enjoyed the ride! I'm not planning on going anywhere yet. I've got the second prequel to Crash almost ready, and I have one more chapter of When It's All Over to finish up before I move onto new FTWD stories. And who knows what season 5b will bring us? Maybe it'll bring me a strong urge to fix whatever the showrunners are trying to do.
> 
> I cannot thank all of you enough for all your kind words and your devotion to the story. It means the world to me, and I am truly grateful to you all. I'd love to hear what you think of this little epilogue or Crash as a whole in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible. As always, thank you for reading.
> 
> \- Alivia


End file.
